It seems that I might have to reconsider my rejection of the social contract. Why on earth would I do that, you ask? Read on, and you will probably agree.

Today, emptying my mail box, I found a brownish/yellowish package. It was a Jiffy Bag. Padded. The bag had my name printed on a label. Just my name, not my address. There was no stamp. Intrigued, I brought the bag inside and sat down in my kitchen and weighed it in my hand. Could it be a book?

Too curious to be waiting any longer I opened the bag and carefully picked up its content. It turned out it was a book. A notebook, to be precise. The notebook was dark grey, with a leatherly texture. Faux leather, but it still felt quite exclusive. There was a strap, holding it closed, and a ballpoint pen attached with in an elastic loop of the same material as the strap. Both the notebook and the pen had the label “LAMY”, embossed on the book cover, printed in white on the pen. One of the pages of the book was bookmarked, screaming “READ HERE” at me.

Before I opened the book, however, I googled LAMY. It is a German maker of very exclusive pens. I even found the notebook kit I had been sent and could see it was at the lowest end of their product line. Even so, I figured the notebook probably had belonged to someone who is serious about his note taking.

Opening the book I found lined pages that felt soft and silky under my fingertips. Most of the pages were empty. ”What if the bookmarked page is also empty?” I wondered.

It wasn’t.

The page contained this text:

I give up half of my income in exchange for you indoctrinating my children and making health care really expensive.

It was signed by a Jared Howe.

Ouch! What on earth did I just read? Signed! Who in is right mind would sign something this awful? Jared Howe? Didn't I just read an articled by someone named Jared Howe? In fact, wasn't it the last thing I read yesterday before going to sleep? Indeed it was. I had read Above the law, by… drumroll… yes, Jared Howe!

It was a piece that with blissful elegance showed that the state has absolutely no legitimacy. Zero. Zilch. Nada. From that it made the case for freeing oneself from the chains of the kind of thinking imposed by the state. We should stop engaging in the state’s made up conflicts pitching group against group, making our fellow men into our competitors, when in fact they are our partners, friends and companions in our coping with the challenges of life. I fell to sleep with this big smile on my face, reminding myself that I should be spreading that article far and wide.

There was just one catch. The article was based on a very important premise:

I haven't seen any evidence that the constitution, statutes, codes or regulations apply to me just because of my physical location, nor have I seen any evidence that they apply to you just because of your physical location. I've posed the question to you good people. I've posed it to so-called "tax agents". I've posed it to so-called "senators". Where is the evidence?

I've received none.

In short it means that if you could prove to Jared that there exists evidence proving that he agrees to being put under the regulations of the state, then his whole argument is mute. And here I am holding this notebook! But… it is much, much, bigger than that.

My heart is racing. It feels like the foundation of the whole fight for liberty is at stake. If, indeed, I am in possession of the mythical social contract, even just a shred of evidence of its existence, what should I do with the rest of my life? It is too big to handle in one step.

So, to begin, what should I do with this notebook? If the contract is fake, then everything returns to normal, the fight continues. If it turns out to be an actual contract, then… no, I don't want to go there yet. Reaching out to you, dear readers. What do you suggest should be the next step in this? I am desperate and will consider all ideas.

At the very least, keep your fingers crossed together with me in hoping this contract will turn out to be a counterfeit.