Cracker Day - A story of racial profiling by AnthonyT

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Cracker Day - A story of racial profiling

POSTED BY: ANTHONYT
UPDATED: Sunday, June 6, 2010 04:30
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Friday, June 4, 2010 10:22 AM

Freedom is Important because People are Important

Hello,

When I was a youth, I attended a Computer Magnet program at Horace Mann Middle School.

******
A brief description of the Magnet Program: Find a destitute neighborhood filled with underperforming youths. Identify a school at the end of its rope. One with kids who have lost purpose, direction and hope. One with peeling paint, no air conditioning, and outdated vandalized textbooks that are at least a decade old. Spend millions on this school. Upgrade the school with a new building. Fill the new building with the most advanced computers available, air-conditioned classrooms, new everything, and imported best-performing teachers from throughout the county. Meanwhile, leave the existing structure, classrooms, teachers, amenities, and supplies intact in their abysmal state. The old students will continue to use them and suffer. Now, bus in middle-class children from a relatively affluent neighborhood. Make sure the middle-class kids attend the shiny new complex, built just for them. Then have them eat lunch with the other kids. Finally, force the students to enter a 'spill out' area after eating. This spill-out area is a fenced in zone that can not be escaped. It is attended by security guards who make sure no one leaves until the bell rings for the next class. They will not intervene in any altercation. Try to imagine a better environment for a youth to vent their rage at the injustice of their circumstances. Try hard. If you think of anything, please contact the Miami Dade school board. They need your input.
******

About once a month, the students at Horace Mann would declare a 'Cracker Day.' Cracker Day was a spontaneous holiday designated for the purpose of abusing the 'rich' white kids. (By the neighborhood standards, there was no difference between us and mansion-dwellers.) Maybe they'd catch you coming in or out of the school. Someone would just walk up nearby, wait till you were at ease, and then take a swing. I was punched many times on Cracker Day. My claim to fame amongst my friends was that I never fell down, no matter how hard I was socked. I was rather proud of this. I didn't share with anyone that I have something of a glass jaw, and then the seconds following a punch to the face were filled with a haze in which I was incapable of action. I didn't fall over, and that was impressive enough for them. In Middle School, I advanced from being one of the short kids to one of the tallest. This, combined with my inability to be knocked over (a false inability to be sure. No one ever kept punching after the first couple, or they'd have learned different) made me a kind of 'safe haven' in my import community. People would hang around me figuring they were somehow safer in my presence.

This was to their detriment on Cracker Day. The problem was the 'spillout area.' It had two walls, and the rest of the enclosure was a six-foot fence. My group of import students tended to cluster against one wall to chat while waiting to be let out of prison for the next class. Well, we weren't the only ones against the wall chatting, but we were the majority. This was monumentally stupid, but somehow the foolishness of this never occurred to me at the time. When the local troublemakers would notice a bunch of us imports along the wall, they would discretely line up, and then charge. 15 or 20 kids, running for 20 yards and then smashing into you, making you the meat in a shoulder-wall sandwich.

It was usually enough to take the wind out of you. It knocked most people down. Some people got knocked down in the space between, and were trampled. Some people suffered abrasions, bloody noses, bruised ribs. The attackers would collapse to the ground right along with everyone else. Laughing at their jolly good game.

I was in the habit of not responding to the various abuses I would receive. It seemed to my uninformed youthful imagination that 3/4ths of the students in school were in a gang. The school security seemed inept and uncaring. They might come in after a fight was over, but never during. Wasn't the occasional sock to the jaw, bloody nose, or wall-tackle a better deal than being knifed to death in the bathroom? Certainly. So, best to keep your head down, take your lumps, and wait for it to be over.

But one Wednesday, after my friends and I were assaulted by the wall-tackle technique, I was apparently in a bad mood. Having had enough, I decided to retaliate. I threw caution to the wind, identified one of the black faces at my feet, and kicked.

For an instant, I felt the exhilerating rush of revenge taken. You have no idea how many abuses were repaid briefly by that kick. I grinned a malevolent grin, righteous retaliation pulsing through my veins and surging through my sneakers. If I'd seen the right movie, I might have shouted, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore!"

Well, then the kid I kicked got up. Half of his face was abraded by my kick, and early evidence of future bruising was apparent. He reared up to his... Four and a quarter feet of height. Egads. Did it have to be one of the little ones? "Oh well," I thought, "He had it coming." Then I looked into his eyes. They were on fire, but they were an echo of my own flame. Righteous indignation. The rage of the victimized. An anger of earned vengeance.

And he started yelling. He complained about the indignity of it all. Being clobbered by 'those ' and then kicked by some white The joy and anger I'd felt seeped out of me. There had been a few black people against the wall near me. Not many, but... Had I kicked the wrong man? Just because he was black?

While I pondered this question, the little guy socked me in the mouth. He missed the magic button, thankfully. But he did split my lip. Lesson to the world - Never underestimate little people. Their qualities are merely more densely packed.

So I smacked my lips, tasting my own blood. I made no move at defense, but kind of slumped my shoulders in a gesture of resignation, and said, "Salty."

He looked at me quizzically and put down his dukes. Then, with the fight clearly over, Security stepped in to cart us off to the principal's office. While we waited, I spoke to the lad. "I thought you were one of those guys that tackled us," I said, "I don't usually try to fight people." He nodded, "Yeah, I could tell yous wasn't in for no fight." "I'm sorry," I said. "All right," he responded, "me too."

When the principal arrived, I explained to him what had happened, and that the entire altercation was a mistake. He eyed us both to be sure there was no lingering resentment. Then he turned us loose. No paperwork, charges, or further admonitions. I was surprised, sure that this would go on my mythical 'permanent record.' As we left the principal behind, I paused to offer the lad my hand. We shook hands, and departed on friendly terms.

Black men tackled me. I kicked a black man seconds afterward, who was at my feet amongst their masses. If asked at that moment, I'd have sworn I had reasonable suspicion and probable cause, and was about to assert some lawful contact in my defense.

I kicked the wrong man.

That's racial profiling.

I never forgot that lesson.

I learned a lot at Horace Mann Middle School... Just not anything that was on the curriculum.

--Anthony

"On this matter, make no mistake. I want you to go fuck yourself long and hard, as well as anyone who agrees with you. I got no use for you." --Auraptor

"This vile and revolting malice - this is their true colors, always has been, you're just seeing it without the mask of justifications and excuses they hide it behind, is all. Make sure to remember it once they put the mask back on." --Fremdfirma

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Friday, June 4, 2010 10:28 AM

PIRATENEWS

John Lee, conspiracy therapist at Hollywood award-winner History Channel-mocked SNL-spoofed PirateNew.org wooHOO!!!!!!

Sounds like you did catch one the The Gang. Just not the one that hit you.

Cure for Cracker Day comes after school... Or the football field.

But that's what fluoride, soybeans and plastic bottles are for.

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Friday, June 4, 2010 2:07 PM

FREMDFIRMA

Anthony, first off, imma give you some hope.
This is the model we're pushin, hard - and it's storming forward like a tidal bore.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sudbury_Valley_School
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sudbury_school
http://www.sudval.org/index.html

Hell, we even got one set up in freakin Baltimore, which was about a miracle, although my sister has refused to let my niece go there even if I pay for it, cause she doesn't want that kid breakin the chains - although come December, she's outta luck on that front.

SVS has my personal and professional reccomendation, and you of all people should know what that is worth.

==========
Now, the less pleasant part.

Since we're talkin about life lessons, and what we take from them, the two incidents which most influenced my views on personal defense and weapon possession, only one of them occured in school - there were many, but the most memorable one stands out while all the rest just kinda blur.

But the first one, that was my fathers doing - he wasn't a nice man, and to draw his eye or notice was to suffer, and I learned to not do that, which is the root of my stealthy nature, which was kind of ironic that when I *did* get noticed I'd catch extra hell for being "sneaky"... there's a certain hell in being an unwanted child, don't you know.

I couldn't tell you what pulled the switch, genetically some folk are more inclined to violence, more comfortable with it, and as children are drawn to it like moths to flame, even at that age I was developing a swift fascination with weapons of all kinds, but the important things buried in my mind that day were afterthoughts, not at all premeditated.

See, it wasn't just me he was abusive to, and that one day, I was maybe five-six, it's a bit fuzzy now, but the one image that remains crystal clear was that I was sitting at the table, and he started revving up, and in sharp relief, a steak knife, and *CLICK*, in my head...
"That could be used as a weapon."
And it was, I got him in the leg with it, how good I got him I dunno, but he was limping, and really pissed.

And there's me, backed into a corner of the kitchen, having made my do-or-die jump from the precipice of meek obediance into just not taking it anymore, and him politely, and calmly, through gritted teeth, trying to get me to put the knife down, full of lies and promises, with one balled fist half-hidden behind his leg - yeah, he WANTED me to put that knife down, oh yes he did, and I knew just WHY, and I know full and well that if I did that, if I caved in, he was going to make really, really sure I never, ever dared do that again, no matter what it took.

I hissed at him through my teeth, if he wanted it, he was going to have to TAKE it, because I had had enough, I was *done* taking his crap, and no matter how badly I was about to get clobbered, there was going to be a next time, and a next, and a next, till one of us killed the other.
He knew it too, and I hadn't thought that far ahead, but later I learned that his foremost thought was that he had to sleep sometime, and would never again be safe in that house.

He left, I didn't see him again for a decade and more, and I brushed him off then, although I do these days tolerate his occasional attempts to be civil to me, amused by the perverse pride he takes in my survival, since every other member of his direct line is dead, including his daughter, with whom he was so afraid of repeating his mistakes that he didn't intervene and her drug habit consumed her.

Once he was gone with the door firmly locked and blocked with a bookcase by my mother, I threw the knife into the sink and washed my hands, and when I turned around my mother picked me up in a hug that about squeezed the breath out of me, which shocked me a bit, being rather unused to such things cause they would draw attention to my unwanted and unwelcome presence, hell, my first reflex at that moment was to make sure he was nowhere in sight, despite what had just transpired.

She didn't let go for a long, long time, and I think that was the beginning of her idea to make me her tykebomb weapon against a society she felt was unjust - woulda been nice to have been asked, since it wound up making me a social pariah, but I prolly woulda been that anyways.

But that moment rings out clear to me, every single time someone wants me to give up my weapons, my right to them, I see the angry eyes of my father, and that balled fist lingering just out of my sight line, and I know *WHY* they want me to do that - cause the line between having your own will, and having the will of another abusively forced upon you, all too often comes down to a fist full of steel, be it of the edged, or projectile throwing variety.

The other incident was about a year or two later, 1978, I recall very clearly cause it's in the 1978 NEA report on school violence, which pointed out in detail how that was going to evolve to mass shootings at schools if left unchecked, a report which was ignored - I do believe I might still have a copy of it around here somewhere in PDF format, but I'd have to look.

One of the kids I went to school with, most of whom hated me cause my vicious and escalated form of self-defense kept the creeps at bay and they felt they were getting stuck with "my share" of the beatings in addition to their own, well, he also got the bright idea to defend himself with a blade, a little teensy pocketknife if I remember correctly.

And sure enough, it worked, he stood them off.

And they went running straight to the principal, who confiscated the pocketknife, called the kids parents, and hit him with detention besides, all the while emotionally flailing the poor kid for it, leaving him all but bawling, he wasn't quiet about it, so a lot of us heard it.
(And this also brought home the injustice of it all, cause ratting the bullies wouldn't get them punished, just label YOU a tattletale and a target, but they get patted on the head for ratting YOU, for self defense?)

So, now disarmed and humilated, he heads back to class, and the same pack of punks, now KNOWING he has been helpfully disarmed by "the authorities", catch him out in the stairwell...

And kick him to death.

That wasn't intentional, I don't think, but while they were working him over extra heavy for daring to stand up in the first place, I guess he rolled down a flight and that did for him.

Coming not so very long after the first incident, that really solidified my stance on weapons ownership and personal defense, and exactly where "the authorities" stood on that kind of thing, what the end result of it was.

It wasn't the best of life lessons, as it was only much later I learned that violence damages the giver as well as the taker, and that allies are stronger than weapons - but when it comes right down to it, I feel very very strongly that the right to defend your person with blade or firearm is absolutely inviolate, and damn well should be...

And when someone, especially an "authority" starts telling me to hand em over "for my own good", I see the eyes of my father, I see the face of that kid, and I know in my heart why they want me to do so - which is why I get so very pissed, no matter what platitudes and excuses they cover it with.

If we wanna eliminate weapons, we'd best first eliminate the *NEED* for them, by building a sane society - but to eliminate the weapons without addressing the causes that make folk feel they need em, well, that's like confiscating someone elses water in the middle of the desert.

-Frem

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Friday, June 4, 2010 3:37 PM

ANTHONYT

Freedom is Important because People are Important

Hello Frem,

On the subject of Sudbury- What a remarkable concept! I don't know what I would have been like today if exposed to that educational model.

In elementary school, 1-6th grade, I was practically a straight F student. Well, academically. I tended to do all right in conduct, with the chief complaint being talkativeness. Though the school was loathe to do so, it held me back for the 3rd grade. I think I passed other grades due to some politics I didn't understand behind the scenes. It sure wasn't my grades. The only class I did well in was an advanced Science class I took from 4-6th grades. It was an experimental class. You had to score well on a test to get in. I always scored well on tests. Drove everyone batty. My grades said I was retarded. My tests said I was sharp. Mr. Zimmerman and I got on quite well. I did better in that class because of Mr. Zimmerman's philosophy. He had a lesson plan, but he'd also teach you anything you wanted to learn. No question was disallowed. That was rare and refreshing.

In Middle school, I hit the C's because the classes were more interesting... except for Advanced History. Mrs. King. She'd answer any question you had about History, and she'd let you pursue any avenue of study. A's and B's there. She also sponsored the school D&D club. You had to have a sponsor for any club. She was the only teacher we'd dare ask. She said yes without hesitation.

In High School, it was all A's and B's, because I could choose classes and the teachers seemed keen on letting me take any detours I wanted. My Dad about had a heart attack. Bribing, punishing, yelling, cajoling, begging. None of it worked. And when he finally gave up, I got on the Honor Roll. He told me once, "If I'd have known this, I'd have given up YEARS ago!" I love my Dad. How could I tell him that he was the reason I got F's all those years? He'd accustomed me to the free pursuit of knowledge, and the constraints of the Educational system felt unnatural. The constant lies of early education weren't helpful, either. Tell me again about George and the Cherry Tree. Jesus, at least admit to us that it's a fable. We were actually learning Aesop's fables at the same time. *sigh* No wonder Paul Bunyan and that blue animal of his felt more real than half the stuff they tried to teach us.

I digress. This Sudbury concept seems revolutionary. I like it.

On the subject of your youth, Frem- Ouch. Poignant, informative, and painful to think upon. Made me want to give you a hug, too. Blame both my folks for that. I never learned that hugs were kid stuff or unmanly. Every friend gets one, sooner or later.

You came out alright, though, Frem. Better than most, even. That bastard got the one gift every father wants: A son better than him.

As to disarmament - we agree. You can dangle me into the piranha pit with the best of intentions, but I'll squawk and fight you every step. I've no doubt that most disarmament folks believe in a better world. All of them. Better Worlds.

--Anthony

"On this matter, make no mistake. I want you to go fuck yourself long and hard, as well as anyone who agrees with you. I got no use for you." --Auraptor

"This vile and revolting malice - this is their true colors, always has been, you're just seeing it without the mask of justifications and excuses they hide it behind, is all. Make sure to remember it once they put the mask back on." --Fremdfirma

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Friday, June 4, 2010 8:02 PM

FREMDFIRMA

The somewhat bitterly satisfyin part of that, Anthony - is that he's well aware of that, and in a warped sort of way quite proud of it, although I don't see much of why he should be.

On the very rare occasions he tries to be civil, he usually leads the conversation with "I heard you'd been killed... again."
Why my personal survival means so much to him, I couldn't tell ya.

I do find it hindsight-hilarious though that I quite, quite understood the concept of "MOLON LABE!" all on my own even as a little kid, long before I ever heard of any of that kind of thing.

My mothers reluctance to show affection wasn't that, so much as a combination of her not wanting to draw his attention, and thus wrath, upon me, and an oddity right from the cradle.
You know how, some cats, they don't mind being petted, but if you pick them up, you're gonna get clawed ?
Well, even as an infant I was kinda like that, poke and prod, whatever, pickin me up pisses me off, always has, always.
In fact, I cared less and less for it over the years, if that's even possible, I was a puny, puny kid, and still barely top off at 5'6" - and, well, I have Astaru friends, NONE of which are an inch under 5'10" and most well over.

You do not, DO NOT, pick me up and set me down out of your way like an errant housepet!
You ASK me to move - I *bit* people for that shit when I was little, and I'm likely to do worse now!
(Go ahead and laugh, so am I, but it *is* a big sore point with me.)

Anyhow, I'm not all that fond of being touched, which comes strange to some folk when I point out it's the lack of that which can be a negative influence pyschologically, and of course, grates a little with some folk I know, particularly this trio of Jamaican fellows who are a bit more physical in their expressions, but I put up with it tolerantly enough.

"Unmanly" was never part of it, hell, those same Astaru like to riddle me about being vain and prissy, "Strutting little peacock", I believe were his exact words, which I found amusing, cause I *do* like to bring some style when I am at leisure to do so.

Anyhow, the most important consequence of that day was that the spark of personhood was lit, and grew into an inferno rather quickly - from that day, no force on earth would move me if I didn't wish to be moved, my mother realized and accepted this, even approved, in her way - but she was about the only one...

She left me to be me, offering only a gentle nudge here and there, and on the rare occasions that went really over the top, she would reason with me - and I never, EVER lied to her, there was no point in it, and because of that, when administrators would lie in much the same fashion pulling away becomes a "vicious assault" when there's no camera to back it up, she NEVER bought it, which further discouraged me from ever lying to her, cause if I ever did, that would lend credence to their bullshit stories.
They learned pretty quick calling her to sell her a line of crap was all but useless, she could tell as quick as I could when they were lying, mind.

Socially, school was a nightmare, not just the prison yard pecking order, but watching the cliques form and go to war on each other with the administrations encouragement, and occasionally targetting me as well, which dropped off rather sharply when I started hittin puberty and the berserkerang came to full flower - it's not so fun anymore trying to jump someone in the bathroom when that someone can rip an entire stall wall out of it's mounts and throw it at you... but there's always some moron, not that they ever get their OWN hands dirty, oh no - and those folks always seem to wind up in politics, don't they ?
And folks think that kinda shit stops at graduation, sure, riiiight.

My problem was snowball effect, not just how when multiple kids attack one, the one gets blamed cause it's easier to pacify a single set of parents, but also because I "had a record" - over time I got kicked out of prettymuch every school in three counties, cause it'd go the same way, new school, new pecking order, and the top dog takes his shot when I don't bow and it gets ugly.
Goes to the office, and cause no one ever had the balls to stand up to him before, he's all squeaky clean, while I, on the other hand, have a record and rep as a troublemaker - so who gets blamed ?
Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Educationally, I was brilliant, but I stopped cooperating after they goggled over some test or other and put me up a grade, against even BIGGER bullies, that was a disaster, and because of how the honor roll and bully hit list were identical, I made *sure* to cruise on a B-C average after that.

But I have a passion for information that borders on downright avaristic greed, once had a waldenbooks clerk ask if I was readin them, or eating them, he was so used to seeing me, and even back then I had Encylopedia Brittanica, and read em cover to cover, a library card, and no social stuff to worry about... so I was a year or two ahead of the curriculum, if not more, and some teachers played accomplice by pretending not to notice when I "borrowed" other educational materials, and some would even leave other books in that exact spot encouraging me to read them, so the constant changing of schools meant little to me.

What did was when they started deliberately screwing around with my credits and classes to keep me under their thumb longer - the excuse was that they wanted to work on my behavior (not their biz!), but I really think they wanted me to jump ship so they didn't have to hand me a diploma.
I cheated, went sideways, bagged up a GED at sixteen and fuck em all.
A document, mind you, that in all this time, all these years, NOT ONE EMPLOYER HAS EVER ASKED TO SEE - rendering the whole goddamn business utterly, totally, pointless.

Skip to dodging truant officers to get to my day job, and curfew cops to do my night shift, and you might begin to realize where the roots of my Anarchism lie.

And the whole time, every slight, every insult, every time I got treated as subhuman, it got filed, recorded, and stored for later, which was at first addressed in revenge against society, then directed at the hellcamps, and then out of that came the realization that this is *WHY* kids destroy themselves attacking society, and preventing THAT became more important to me.

Believe me, I know exactly, every hateful, hurtful thought going through my Nieces mind right now wrapped around "Just you wait, you fuckers!", as the clock ticks down to December...
I can only wish, only hope, she will listen to me when that day comes.

Anyhow, with the hellcamps destroyed, and educational systems now being FORCED to deal with the square pegs instead of conveniently shipping them to concentration camps for kids, this is a perfect storm to push the Sudbury Model as a reform and solution to a great many educational problems.

Building a saner world, step by little step.

-Frem

PS. I get a lotta kids ask me how/why I understand them and their problems so clearly, so deeply - part of it is cause I made oath to myself to never, EVER forget those moments, painful as they are, cause the only way to reach these kids is to speak truth to them, when no one else dares, and before you even get there - you have to prove to them you *understand* them.

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Friday, June 4, 2010 8:04 PM

FREMDFIRMA

PPS. You may have already been - some Vo-Tech programs ran on a similar model, although despite often being the most USEFUL part of the educational experience, they're generally the first victims of budget cuts.

-F

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Friday, June 4, 2010 8:44 PM

DREAMTROVE

Anthony,

Gruesome story, glad you got out okay. Of course you were racially profiling, it was all around you on cracker day. It's what the system was teaching you, in it's misguided way. Actually, have some direct family connections to hoarse Mann, I can see how that would come about, but jeez.

Frem,

I would you a couple of responses now, sorry about that been busy and it's late, I wanted to ask something about sudbury school, also, on the other thread, I just have to gnaw over my NWO counter attack ;) I'll be out all day tomorrow, possibly the day after, see you guys Monday most probably

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Sunday, June 6, 2010 4:13 AM

FREMDFIRMA

Quote:
Originally posted by AnthonyT:
As to disarmament - we agree. You can dangle me into the piranha pit with the best of intentions, but I'll squawk and fight you every step. I've no doubt that most disarmament folks believe in a better world. All of them. Better Worlds.

Well, it sure ain't gettin better - damn cops are *now* deciding to shake down *EVERYONE* to try and strip folk of their weapons, never mind that most of the folks they're hitting carry them to protect themselves, never mind that many can't carry legally cause of the forever-felony-mark of doom, often on bullshit charges they don't dare fight in our corrupt court system cause they don't stand a chance, never mind that over HALF the deaths from gunfire are in fact caused by the police around here, many of which aren't necessary, oh no...

Besides, they cook the fuckin statistics anyways - some asshole gets capped by a homeowner during an attempted home invasion.. "victim of gun violence", yeah, sure, whatever - and likely enough the homeowner is gonna face charges.

Just last week someone up the road here on the bridge came under assault by a street gang, which has been hangin around the bridge robbing people, he pulled his (illegal) handgun and stood them off, over the course of his escape firing several shots - now, I am not a fan of warning shots, but when someone packing for their own defense has to break the law to do it, I can see the inclination to not hit anyone if possible so that there's less attention and evidence of your breaking the rules to survive.

Cops show up, charge right through the gangbangers cheering them on, slam the guy to the pavement, disarm him, arrest him, gangbangers go on their merry way.

And now this poor asshole has even more criminal charges against him, down into the death spiral with the felony mark of doom, which lasts.. FOREVER, shit man, just shoot him in the head and be done why don't we ?

Oh never mind, the gangbangers are likely to take care of that, aren't they ?
It's the stairwell kid all over again.

He gets out, it's either get strapped or be victimized, cause the cops sure as hell won't go after the CAUSES of crime, the poverty, the ridiculous war on (some) drugs, the idea that life for most folk around here is so short and painful it's not worth a hell of a lot, but no, they add to the goddamn problem, Horace Mann and Miami Dade, from a law enforcement perspective.

But no, it's all the fault of guns in the hands of peons, don't we know our place ?
http://www.freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20100606/NEWS01/606044
2/1318/City-cops-on-hunt-for-guns&template=fullarticle

The "tone" of the article is of course sycophantic, all but slobbering on the jackboots, but the DetNews and the Freep are wholly right wing enterprises, but even their biases are telling, and there's really no way you can effectively sugar coat the fact that they're waging war on the community they are supposed to be protecting.

You wanna get the most dangerous guns around here off the street - take em from the fuckin cops, just ask Aiyana's parents, as they label her death "another victim of gun violence" and point the finger somewhere, anywhere, but themselves.

Or ask the folks in the neighborhood, that the police unleashed hails of gunfire in, shot it all up, to catch a "reckless driver" who also happened to be in possession of certain footage...
(ETA: Gus gave me the headsup that someone did carry the story despite some police threats - it's very telling.)
http://www.michigancitizen.com/default.asp?sourceid=&smenu=1&twindow=&
mad=&sdetail=8679&wpage=1&skeyword=&sidate=&ccat=&ccatm=&restate=&restatus=&reoption=&retype=&repmin=&repmax=&rebed=&rebath=&subname=&pform=&sc=1070&hn=michigancitizen&he=.com

And every time, EVERY time, the cops start jacking peoples only real means of defense, cause the boys in blue show up only in time to draw chalk outlines, don't you know - the body count rises, cause the balance of power between the citizens and the creepers is thrown out of wack, and on every body...

I see the face of that kid from the stairwell.

-Frem

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Sunday, June 6, 2010 4:30 AM

FREMDFIRMA

Quote:
Originally posted by Fremdfirma:
The "tone" of the article is of course sycophantic, all but slobbering on the jackboots, but the DetNews and the Freep are wholly right wing enterprises, but even their biases are telling, and there's really no way you can effectively sugar coat the fact that they're waging war on the community they are supposed to be protecting.

Jeezzus H KeeRHIST, can you GET any more servile than this ?

Read it, I fekkin DARE you.
2 hardworking, hard-hitting cops are now felons
http://www.freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20100606/NEWS01/606041
7&template=fullarticle
This!.. this... BULLSHIT, this fucking APOLOGISM for their crooked, corrupt, mafia-like behavior, while pointing the finger of blame at the community, the citizens, us "lesser" peons...

Seriously people - this is what I gotta deal with around here, what we all do, and the bootlickers trying to make these slime out to be some kind of heros, oh, so sorry they got caught, doing good work, you know, making a better world...

All of them, better worlds.

==============

PS. I wanted you to see it from my eyes, if you can, Anthony, so you really understand how every single bit of ugly from back then gets amplified, magnified, and played out over and over again in a macrocosm as our society simply emulates the horrors we've been taught are "normal", and the public education system is one of the primary roots.

Don't expect it to change all that soon, though, cause remember, via the hellcamps, and forced medication - we slaughtered our visionaries, our mother theresas, our ghandis, we murdered them in their childhoods, or murdered their childhood itself, and put the hitlers on a pedestal and mainlined em into politics.

We've done our bit to patch the damage, but that gaping wound still bleeds - the infection of the hellcamps is gone, but there's still the flood of control drugs, the juvie "justice" system and a screwed up primary "education" system, which is the next step, cause by moving to a Sudbury model, it'll eliminate a lot of the so-called-problems which lead to control drugs and juvie "justice" to begin with.

One long chain of events, if you can follow it, from the day those kids are chucked to the wolves in first grade*, till they become wolves themselves, one way... or another.

-Frem

*Most kindergartens operate on something closer to a sudbury model, thankfully, but them they have to, or they wouldn't work at all - kids need sufficient development to understand the lies we foist on them in order to be influenced, see ?

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