Incarceration concentrates the mind. I have sworn before 36 god-fearing grand jurors that Jim Bell is not what the government alleges. I have seen Jim Bell in the dock denying the government's accusations. I have been warned by the judge to not disclose juror's names "accidentally" posted on the court's web site. I was ordered to never disclose the names I was waving in the courtroom and swallowed before the bailiffs could snatch them. There were information freedom fighters in the courtroom who applauded my being threatened by a startled-awake judge and rabbit-punched by IRS snitches. A woman among us screamed this: I love Jim Bell, I want to be his wife, right now, marry us, Your Honor. By God, he did, sentenced them to time served, returned to snoring. Weeping and hugging, the jurors danced with guards, Rob Prosecutor wailed out his mind. Jeff Gordon, a True Blue Undercover Cypherpunk, embraced Sobbing Rob, hollered I love you Robbie, let's tie the knot. T'was done in a doubling the judge snoring throughout. Rob and Jeff make a lovely couple, send cards every year on the anniversary of their open court coupling. Jim and wife have two little assassins being raised for vengeance by chemistry. One might think "global warming" is a code phrase for worse.