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  • From: Carrie McLaren <stay.free AT verizon.net>
  • To: stayfreemagazine AT lists.ibiblio.org
  • Subject: Stay Free! followup to yesterday's email
  • Date: Tue, 21 Oct 2003 10:35:08 -0500

Hi, one of links I sent out yesterday is no longer available, so
since this is MANDATORY reading here's the full text of the article.
Thanks to Frank Baker for pointing this out. --CM


- - - -


Monday, October 13, 2003

Published on Monday, October 13, 2003 by the lndependent/UK. Reprinted at:
http://www.commondreams.org/headlines03/1013-01.htm

All the President's Votes?
A Quiet Revolution is Taking Place in US Politics. By the Time It's
Over, the Integrity of Elections Will be in the Unchallenged,
Unscrutinized Control of a Few Large - and Pro-Republican -
Corporations. Andrew Gumbel wonders if democracy in America can
survive

by Andrew Gumbel

Something very odd happened in the mid-term elections in Georgia last
November. On the eve of the vote, opinion polls showed Roy Barnes,
the incumbent Democratic governor, leading by between nine and 11
points. In a somewhat closer, keenly watched Senate race, polls
indicated that Max Cleland, the popular Democrat up for re-election,
was ahead by two to five points against his Republican challenger,
Saxby Chambliss.

Corporate America is very close to running this country. The only
thing that is stopping them from taking total control are the pesky
voters. That's why there's such a drive to control the vote. What
we're seeing is the corporatization of the last shred of democracy.
Roxanne Jekot computer programmer

Those figures were more or less what political experts would have
expected in state with a long tradition of electing Democrats to
statewide office. But then the results came in, and all of Georgia
appeared to have been turned upside down. Barnes lost the
governorship to the Republican, Sonny Perdue, 46 per cent to 51 per
cent, a swing of as much as 16 percentage points from the last
opinion polls. Cleland lost to Chambliss 46 per cent to 53, a
last-minute swing of 9 to 12 points.

Red-faced opinion pollsters suddenly had a lot of explaining to do
and launched internal investigations. Political analysts credited the
upset - part of a pattern of Republican successes around the country
- to a huge campaigning push by President Bush in the final days of
the race. They also said that Roy Barnes had lost because of a surge
of "angry white men" punishing him for eradicating all but a vestige
of the old confederate symbol from the state flag.

But something about these explanations did not make sense, and they
have made even less sense over time. When the Georgia secretary of
state's office published its demographic breakdown of the election
earlier this year, it turned out there was no surge of angry white
men; in fact, the only subgroup showing even a modest increase in
turnout was black women.

There were also big, puzzling swings in partisan loyalties in
different parts of the state. In 58 counties, the vote was broadly in
line with the primary election. In 27 counties in
Republican-dominated north Georgia, however, Max Cleland
unaccountably scored 14 percentage points higher than he had in the
primaries. And in 74 counties in the Democrat south, Saxby Chambliss
garnered a whopping 22 points more for the Republicans than the party
as a whole had won less than three months earlier.

Now, weird things like this do occasionally occur in elections, and
the figures, on their own, are not proof of anything except
statistical anomalies worthy of further study. But in Georgia there
was an extra reason to be suspicious. Last November, the state became
the first in the country to conduct an election entirely with
touchscreen voting machines, after lavishing $54m (£33m) on a new
system that promised to deliver the securest, most up-to-date, most
voter-friendly election in the history of the republic. The machines,
however, turned out to be anything but reliable. With academic
studies showing the Georgia touchscreens to be poorly programmed,
full of security holes and prone to tampering, and with thousands of
similar machines from different companies being introduced at high
speed across the country, computer voting may, in fact, be US
democracy's own 21st-century nightmare.

In many Georgia counties last November, the machines froze up,
causing long delays as technicians tried to reboot them. In heavily
Democratic Fulton County, in downtown Atlanta, 67 memory cards from
the voting machines went missing, delaying certification of the
results there for 10 days. In neighboring DeKalb County, 10 memory
cards were unaccounted for; they were later recovered from terminals
that had supposedly broken down and been taken out of service.

It is still unclear exactly how results from these missing cards were
tabulated, or if they were counted at all. And we will probably never
know, for a highly disturbing reason. The vote count was not
conducted by state elections officials, but by the private company
that sold Georgia the voting machines in the first place, under a
strict trade-secrecy contract that made it not only difficult but
actually illegal - on pain of stiff criminal penalties - for the
state to touch the equipment or examine the proprietary software to
ensure the machines worked properly. There was not even a paper trail
to follow up. The machines were fitted with thermal printing devices
that could theoretically provide a written record of voters' choices,
but these were not activated. Consequently, recounts were impossible.
Had Diebold Inc, the manufacturer, been asked to review the votes,
all it could have done was program the computers to spit out the same
data as before, flawed or not.

Astonishingly, these are the terms under which America's top three
computer voting machine manufacturers - Diebold, Sequoia and Election
Systems and Software (ES&S) - have sold their products to election
officials around the country. Far from questioning the need for rigid
trade secrecy and the absence of a paper record, secretaries of state
and their technical advisers - anxious to banish memories of the
hanging chad fiasco and other associated disasters in the 2000
presidential recount in Florida - have, for the most part, welcomed
the touchscreen voting machines as a technological miracle solution.

Georgia was not the only state last November to see big last-minute
swings in voting patterns. There were others in Colorado, Minnesota,
Illinois and New Hampshire - all in races that had been flagged as
key partisan battlegrounds, and all won by the Republican Party.
Again, this was widely attributed to the campaigning efforts of
President Bush and the demoralization of a Democratic Party too timid
to speak out against the looming war in Iraq.

Strangely, however, the pollsters made no comparable howlers in
lower-key races whose outcome was not seriously contested. Another
anomaly, perhaps. What, then, is one to make of the fact that the
owners of the three major computer voting machines are all prominent
Republican Party donors? Or of a recent political fund-raising letter
written to Ohio Republicans by Walden O'Dell, Diebold's chief
executive, in which he said he was "committed to helping Ohio to
deliver its electoral votes to the president next year" - even as his
company was bidding for the contract on the state's new voting
machinery?

Alarmed and suspicious, a group of Georgia citizens began to look
into last November's election to see whether there was any chance the
results might have been deliberately or accidentally manipulated.
Their research proved unexpectedly, and disturbingly, fruitful.

First, they wanted to know if the software had undergone adequate
checking. Under state and federal law, all voting machinery and
component parts must be certified before use in an election. So an
Atlanta graphic designer called Denis Wright wrote to the secretary
of state's office for a copy of the certification letter. Clifford
Tatum, assistant director of legal affairs for the election division,
wrote back: "We have determined that no records exist in the
Secretary of State's office regarding a certification letter from the
lab certifying the version of software used on Election Day." Mr
Tatum said it was possible the relevant documents were with Gary
Powell, an official at the Georgia Technology Authority, so
campaigners wrote to him as well. Mr Powell responded he was "not
sure what you mean by the words 'please provide written certification
documents' ".

"If the machines were not certified, then right there the election
was illegal," Mr Wright says. The secretary of state's office has yet
to demonstrate anything to the contrary. The investigating citizens
then considered the nature of the software itself. Shortly after the
election, a Diebold technician called Rob Behler came forward and
reported that, when the machines were about to be shipped to Georgia
polling stations in the summer of 2002, they performed so erratically
that their software had to be amended with a last-minute "patch".
Instead of being transmitted via disk - a potentially time-consuming
process, especially since its author was in Canada, not Georgia - the
patch was posted, along with the entire election software package, on
an open-access FTP, or file transfer protocol site, on the internet.

That, according to computer experts, was a violation of the most
basic of security precautions, opening all sorts of possibilities for
the introduction of rogue or malicious code. At the same time,
however, it gave campaigners a golden opportunity to circumvent
Diebold's own secrecy demands and see exactly how the system worked.
Roxanne Jekot, a computer programmer with 20 years' experience, and
an occasional teacher at Lanier Technical College northeast of
Atlanta, did a line-by-line review and found "enough to stand your
hair on end".

"There were security holes all over it," she says, "from the most
basic display of the ballot on the screen all the way through the
operating system." Although the program was designed to be run on the
Windows 2000 NT operating system, which has numerous safeguards to
keep out intruders, Ms Jekot found it worked just fine on the much
less secure Windows 98; the 2000 NT security features were, as she
put it, "nullified".

Also embedded in the software were the comments of the programmers
working on it. One described what he and his colleagues had just done
as "a gross hack". Elsewhere was the remark: "This doesn't really
work." "Not a confidence builder, would you say?" Ms Jekot says.
"They were operating in panic mode, cobbling together something that
would work for the moment, knowing that at some point they would have
to go back to figure out how to make it work more permanently." She
found some of the code downright suspect - for example, an overtly
meaningless instruction to divide the number of write-in votes by 1.
"From a logical standpoint there is absolutely no reason to do that,"
she says. "It raises an immediate red flag."

Mostly, though, she was struck by the shoddiness of much of the
programming. "I really expected to have some difficulty reviewing the
source code because it would be at a higher level than I am
accustomed to," she says. "In fact, a lot of this stuff looked like
the homework my first-year students might have turned in." Diebold
had no specific comment on Ms Jekot's interpretations, offering only
a blanket caution about the complexity of election systems "often not
well understood by individuals with little real-world experience".

But Ms Jekot was not the only one to examine the Diebold software and
find it lacking. In July, a group of researchers from the Information
Security Institute at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore
discovered what they called "stunning flaws". These included putting
the password in the source code, a basic security no-no; manipulating
the voter smart-card function so one person could cast more than one
vote; and other loopholes that could theoretically allow voters'
ballot choices to be altered without their knowledge, either on the
spot or by remote access.

Diebold issued a detailed response, saying that the Johns Hopkins
report was riddled with false assumptions, inadequate information and
"a multitude of false conclusions". Substantially similar findings,
however, were made in a follow-up study on behalf of the state of
Maryland, in which a group of computer security experts catalogued
328 software flaws, 26 of them critical, putting the whole system "at
high risk of compromise". "If these vulnerabilities are exploited,
significant impact could occur on the accuracy, integrity, and
availability of election results," their report says.

Ever since the Johns Hopkins study, Diebold has sought to explain
away the open FTP file as an old, incomplete version of its election
package. The claim cannot be independently verified, because of the
trade-secrecy agreement, and not everyone is buying it. "It is
documented throughout the code who changed what and when. We have the
history of this program from 1996 to 2002," Ms Jekot says. "I have no
doubt this is the software used in the elections." Diebold now says
it has upgraded its encryption and password features - but only on
its Maryland machines.

A key security question concerned compatibility with Microsoft
Windows, and Ms Jekot says just three programmers, all of them senior
Diebold executives, were involved in this aspect of the system. One
of these, Diebold's vice-president of research and development,
Talbot Iredale, wrote an e-mail in April 2002 - later obtained by the
campaigners - making it clear that he wanted to shield the operating
system from Wylie Labs, an independent testing agency involved in the
early certification process.

The reason that emerges from the e-mail is that he wanted to make the
software compatible with WinCE 3.0, an operating system used for
handhelds and PDAs; in other words, a system that could be
manipulated from a remote location. "We do not want Wyle [sic]
reviewing and certifying the operating systems," the e-mail reads.
"Therefore can we keep to a minimum the references to the WinCE 3.0
operating system."

In an earlier intercepted e-mail, this one from Ken Clark in
Diebold's research and development department, the company explained
upfront to another independent testing lab that the supposedly secure
software system could be accessed without a password, and its
contents easily changed using the Microsoft Access program Mr Clark
says he had considered putting in a password requirement to stop
dealers and customers doing "stupid things", but that the easy access
had often "got people out of a bind". Astonishingly, the
representative from the independent testing lab did not see anything
wrong with this and granted certification to the part of the software
program she was inspecting - a pattern of lackadaisical oversight
that was replicated all the way to the top of the political chain of
command in Georgia, and in many other parts of the country.

Diebold has not contested the authenticity of the e-mails, now openly
accessible on the internet. However, Diebold did caution that, as the
e-mails were taken from a Diebold Election systems website in March
2003 by an illegal hack, the nature of the information stolen could
have been revised or manipulated.

There are two reasons why the United States is rushing to overhaul
its voting systems. The first is the Florida débâcle in the Bush-Gore
election; no state wants to be the center of that kind of attention
again. And the second is the Help America Vote Act (HAVA), signed by
President Bush last October, which promises an unprecedented $3.9bn
(£2.3bn) to the states to replace their old punchcard-and-lever
machines. However, enthusiasm for the new technology seems to be
motivated as much by a bureaucratic love of spending as by a love of
democratic accountability. According to Rebecca Mercuri, a research
fellow at Harvard's John F Kennedy School of Government and a
specialist in voting systems, the shockingly high error rate of
punchcard machines (3-5 per cent in Florida in 2000) has been known
to people in the elections business for years. It was only after it
became public knowledge in the last presidential election that
anybody felt moved to do anything about it.

The problem is, computer touchscreen machines and other so-called DRE
(direct recording electronic) systems are significantly less reliable
than punchcards, irrespective of their vulnerability to interference.
In a series of research papers for the Voting Technology Project, a
joint venture of the prestigious Massachusetts and California
Institutes of Technology, DREs were found to be among the worst
performing systems. No method, the MIT/CalTech study conceded, worked
more reliably than hand-counting paper ballots - an option that US
electoral officials seem to consider hopelessly antiquated, or at
least impractical in elections combining multiple local, state and
national races for offices from President down to dogcatcher.

The clear disadvantages and dangers associated with DREs have not
deterred state and county authorities from throwing themselves
headlong into touchscreen technology. More than 40,000 machines made
by Diebold alone are already in use in 37 states, and most are
touchscreens. County after county is poised to spend hundreds of
millions of dollars more on computer voting before next spring's
presidential primaries. "They say this is the direction they have to
go in to have fair elections, but the rush to go towards
computerization is very dubious," Dr Mercuri says. "One has to wonder
why this is going on, because the way it is set up it takes away the
checks and balances we have in a democratic society. That's the whole
point of paper trails and recounts."

Anyone who has struggled with an interactive display in a museum
knows how dodgy touchscreens can be. If they don't freeze, they
easily become misaligned, which means they can record the wrong data.
In Dallas, during early voting before last November's election,
people found that no matter how often they tried to press a Democrat
button, the Republican candidate's name would light up. After a court
hearing, Diebold agreed to take down 18 machines with apparent
misalignment problems. "And those were the ones where you could
visually spot a problem," Dr Mercuri says. "What about what you don't
see? Just because your vote shows up on the screen for the Democrats,
how do you know it is registering inside the machine for the
Democrats?"

Other problems have shown up periodically: machines that register
zero votes, or machines that indicate voters coming to the polling
station but not voting, even when a single race with just two
candidates was on the ballot. Dr Mercuri was part of a lawsuit in
Palm Beach County in which she and other plaintiffs tried to have a
suspect Sequoia machine examined, only to run up against the brick
wall of the trade-secret agreement. "It makes it really hard to show
their product has been tampered with," she says, "if it's a felony to
inspect it."

As for the possibilities of foul play, Dr Mercuri says they are
virtually limitless. "There are literally hundreds of ways to do
this," she says. "There are hundreds of ways to embed a rogue series
of commands into the code and nobody would ever know because the
nature of programming is so complex. The numbers would all tally
perfectly." Tampering with an election could be something as simple
as a "denial-of-service" attack, in which the machines simply stop
working for an extended period, deterring voters faced with the
prospect of long lines. Or it could be done with invasive computer
codes known in the trade by such nicknames as "Trojan horses" or
"Easter eggs". Detecting one of these, Dr Mercuri says, would be
almost impossible unless the investigator knew in advance it was
there and how to trigger it. Computer researcher Theresa Hommel, who
is alarmed by touchscreen systems, has constructed a simulated voting
machine in which the same candidate always wins, no matter what data
you put in. She calls her model the Fraud-o-matic, and it is
available online at www.wheresthepaper.org.

It is not just touchscreens which are at risk from error or malicious
intrusion. Any computer system used to tabulate votes is vulnerable.
An optical scan of ballots in Scurry County, Texas, last November
erroneously declared a landslide victory for the Republican candidate
for county commissioner; a subsequent hand recount showed that the
Democrat had in fact won. In Comal County, Texas, a computerized
optical scan found that three different candidates had won their
races with exactly 18,181 votes. There was no recount or
investigation, even though the coincidence, with those recurring 1s
and 8s, looked highly suspicious. In heavily Democrat Broward County,
Florida - which had switched to touchscreens in the wake of the
hanging chad furore - more than 100,000 votes were found to have gone
"missing" on election day. The votes were reinstated, but the glitch
was not adequately explained. One local official blamed it on a
"minor software thing".

Most suspect of all was the governor's race in Alabama, where the
incumbent Democrat, Don Siegelman, was initially declared the winner.
Sometime after midnight, when polling station observers and most
staff had gone home, the probate judge responsible for elections in
rural Baldwin County suddenly "discovered" that Mr Siegelman had been
awarded 7,000 votes too many. In a tight election, the change was
enough to hand victory to his Republican challenger, Bob Riley.
County officials talked vaguely of a computer tabulation error, or a
lightning strike messing up the machines, but the real reason was
never ascertained because the state's Republican attorney general
refused to authorize a recount or any independent ballot inspection.

According to an analysis by James Gundlach, a sociology professor at
Auburn University in Alabama, the result in Baldwin County was full
of wild deviations from the statistical norms established both by
this and preceding elections. And he adds: "There is simply no way
that electronic vote counting can produce two sets of results without
someone using computer programs in ways that were not intended. In
other words, the fact that two sets of results were reported is
sufficient evidence in and of itself that the vote tabulation process
was compromised." Although talk of voting fraud quickly subsided,
Alabama has now amended its election laws to make recounts mandatory
in close races.

The possibility of flaws in the electoral process is not something
that gets discussed much in the United States. The attitude seems to
be: we are the greatest democracy in the world, so the system must be
fair. That has certainly been the prevailing view in Georgia, where
even leading Democrats - their prestige on the line for introducing
touchscreen voting in the first place - have fought tooth-and-nail to
defend the integrity of the system. In a phone interview, the head of
the Georgia Technology Authority who brought Diebold machines to the
state, Larry Singer, blamed the growing chorus of criticism on "fear
of technology", despite the fact that many prominent critics are
themselves computer scientists. He says: "Are these machines
flawless? No. Would you have more confidence if they were completely
flawless? Yes. Is there such a thing as a flawless system? No." Mr
Singer, who left the GTA straight after the election and took a 50
per cent pay cut to work for Sun Microsystems, insists that voters
are more likely to have their credit card information stolen by a
busboy in a restaurant than to have their vote compromised by
touchscreen technology.

Voting machines are sold in the United States in much the same way as
other government contracts: through intensive lobbying, wining and
dining. At a recent national conference of clerks, election officials
and treasurers in Denver, attendees were treated to black-tie dinners
and other perks, including free expensive briefcases stamped with
Sequoia's company logo alongside the association's own symbol. Nobody
in power seems to find this worrying, any more than they worried when
Sequoia's southern regional sales manager, Phil Foster, was indicted
in Louisiana a couple of years ago for "conspiracy to commit money
laundering and malfeasance". The charges were dropped in exchange for
his testimony against Louisiana's state commissioner of elections.
Similarly, last year, the Arkansas secretary of state, Bill McCuen,
pleaded guilty to taking bribes and kickbacks involving a precursor
company to ES&S; the voting machine company executive who testified
against him in exchange for immunity is now an ES&S vice-president.

If much of the worry about vote-tampering is directed at the
Republicans, it is largely because the big three touchscreen
companies are all big Republican donors, pouring hundreds of
thousands of dollars into party coffers in the past few years. The
ownership issue is, of course, compounded by the lack of
transparency. Or, as Dr Mercuri puts it: "If the machines were
independently verifiable, who would give a crap who owns them?" As it
is, fears that US democracy is being hijacked by corporate interests
are being fueled by links between the big three and broader business
interests, as well as extremist organizations. Two of the early
backers of American Information Systems, a company later merged into
ES&S, are also prominent supporters of the Chalcedon Foundation, an
organization that espouses theocratic governance according to a
literal reading of the Bible and advocates capital punishment for
blasphemy and homosexuality.

The chief executive of American Information Systems in the early
Nineties was Chuck Hagel, who went on to run for elective office and
became the first Republican in 24 years to be elected to the Senate
from Nebraska, cheered on by the Omaha World-Herald newspaper which
also happens to be a big investor in ES&S. In yet another clamorous
conflict of interest, 80 per cent of Mr Hagel's winning votes - both
in 1996 and again in 2002 - were counted, under the usual terms of
confidentiality, by his own company.

In theory, the federal government should be monitoring the transition
to computer technology and rooting out abuses. Under the Help America
Vote Act, the Bush administration is supposed to establish a sizeable
oversight committee, headed by two Democrats and two Republicans, as
well as a technical panel to determine standards for new voting
machinery. The four commission heads were supposed to have been in
place by last February, but so far just one has been appointed. The
technical panel also remains unconstituted, even though the new
machines it is supposed to vet are already being sold in large
quantities - a state of affairs Dr Mercuri denounces as "an
abomination".

One of the conditions states have to fulfil to receive federal
funding for the new voting machines, meanwhile, is a consolidation of
voter rolls at state rather than county level. This provision sends a
chill down the spine of anyone who has studied how Florida
consolidated its own voter rolls just before the 2000 election,
purging the names of tens of thousands of eligible voters, most of
them African Americans and most of them Democrats, through misuse of
an erroneous list of convicted felons commissioned by Katherine
Harris, the secretary of state doubling as George Bush's Florida
campaign manager. Despite a volley of lawsuits, the incorrect list
was still in operation in last November's mid-terms, raising all
sorts of questions about what other states might now do with their
own voter rolls. It is not that the Act's consolidation provision is
in itself evidence of a conspiracy to throw elections, but it does
leave open that possibility.

Meanwhile, the administration has been pushing new voting technology
of its own to help overseas citizens and military personnel, both
natural Republican Party constituencies, to vote more easily over the
internet. Internet voting is notoriously insecure and open to abuse
by just about anyone with rudimentary hacking skills; just last
January, an experiment in internet voting in Toronto was scuppered by
a Slammer worm attack. Undeterred, the administration has gone ahead
with its so-called SERVE project for overseas voting, via a private
consortium made up of major defense contractors and a Saudi
investment group. The contract for overseeing internet voting in the
2004 presidential election was recently awarded to Accenture,
formerly part of the Arthur Andersen group (whose accountancy branch,
a major campaign contributor to President Bush, imploded as a result
of the Enron bankruptcy scandal).

Not everyone in the United States has fallen under the spell of the
big computer voting companies, and there are signs of growing
wariness. Oregon decided even before HAVA to conduct all its voting
by mail. Wisconsin has decided it wants nothing to do with
touchscreen machines without a verifiable paper trail, and New York
is considering a similar injunction, at least for its state assembly
races. In California, a Stanford computer science professor called
David Dill is screaming from the rooftops on the need for a paper
trail in his state, so far without result. And a New Jersey
Congressman called Rush Holt has introduced a bill in the House of
Representatives, the Voter Confidence and Increased Accessibility
Act, asking for much the same thing. Not everyone is heeding the
warnings, though. In Ohio, publication of the letter from Diebold's
chief executive promising to deliver the state to President Bush in
2004 has not deterred the secretary of state - a Republican - from
putting Diebold on a list of preferred voting-machine vendors.
Similarly, in Maryland, officials have not taken the recent
state-sponsored study identifying hundreds of flaws in the Diebold
software as any reason to change their plans to use Diebold machines
in March's presidential primary.

The question is whether the country will come to its senses before
elections start getting distorted or tampered with on such a scale
that the system becomes unmanageable. The sheer volume of money
offered under HAVA is unlikely to be forthcoming again in a hurry, so
if things aren't done right now it is doubtful the system can be
fixed again for a long time. "This is frightening, really
frightening," says Dr Mercuri, and a growing number of reasonable
people are starting to agree with her. One such is John Zogby,
arguably the most reliable pollster in the United States, who has
freely admitted he "blew" last November's elections and does not
exclude the possibility that foul play was one of the factors
knocking his calculations off course. "We're plowing into a brave new
world here," he says, "where there are so many variables aside from
out-and-out corruption that can change elections, especially in
situations where the races are close. We have machines that break
down, or are tampered with, or are simply misunderstood. It's a cause
for great concern."

Roxanne Jekot, who has put much of her professional and personal life
on hold to work on the issue full time, puts it even more strongly.
"Corporate America is very close to running this country. The only
thing that is stopping them from taking total control are the pesky
voters. That's why there's such a drive to control the vote. What
we're seeing is the corporatization of the last shred of democracy.

"I feel that unless we stop it here and stop it now," she says, "my
kids won't grow up to have a right to vote at all."

© 2003 Independent Digital (UK) Ltd


--
Carrie McLaren
Editor, Stay Free!
718.398.9324
www.stayfreemagazine.org
www.illegal-art.org



  • Stay Free! followup to yesterday's email, Carrie McLaren, 10/21/2003

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