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lotrlocked: weaselle: There was an arrest across the street from my place in Oakland one day – three cop cars with a bullhorn and guns out – and before I could even get out the gate there were a couple people posted up and one of them was filming and another one was narrating in a calm but very loud voice, just “HE IS COOPERATING! HIS HANDS ARE EMPTY! HE IS DOING WHAT HE IS TOLD TO DO! HE IS HOLDING STILL! HIS HANDS ARE EMPTY! HE IS NOT BEING THREATENING! HE HAS PUT HIS HANDS BEHIND HIS HEAD AS ASKED! HE IS NOT RESISTING!” and that was something I hadn’t thought to do before. It certainly let the cops know what the narrative of eye witnesses was going to be.  I especially liked “his hands are empty” because this statement would still be true and a witnessed reason the police should not become violent even if it turned out he had a weapon on his person somewhere. I see people in NYC stop and record a lot. Even if they are just being nosey, that’s still witnesses if shit goes down. : lotrlocked: weaselle: There was an arrest across the street from my place in Oakland one day – three cop cars with a bullhorn and guns out – and before I could even get out the gate there were a couple people posted up and one of them was filming and another one was narrating in a calm but very loud voice, just “HE IS COOPERATING! HIS HANDS ARE EMPTY! HE IS DOING WHAT HE IS TOLD TO DO! HE IS HOLDING STILL! HIS HANDS ARE EMPTY! HE IS NOT BEING THREATENING! HE HAS PUT HIS HANDS BEHIND HIS HEAD AS ASKED! HE IS NOT RESISTING!” and that was something I hadn’t thought to do before. It certainly let the cops know what the narrative of eye witnesses was going to be.  I especially liked “his hands are empty” because this statement would still be true and a witnessed reason the police should not become violent even if it turned out he had a weapon on his person somewhere. I see people in NYC stop and record a lot. Even if they are just being nosey, that’s still witnesses if shit goes down.
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bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it : bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
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mighty-meerkat: bundibird: kaldicuct: vaporwavevocap: draconic-duelist: ranty9000: askshadetrixieandfamily: real-life-pine-tree: oddeyesarcpendulumdragon: based on a true story I don’t think Fortnite is to blame for kids nowadays not reading… That’s the joke. It’s the authoritarian overbearing parent. He was being sarcastic lol Reminded me of these That violin one hit close to home. I remember doing homework once, asked my grandmother if she was proud of me. “Do some thing for me to be proud of.” That hurt. That comic up there – I witnessed almost that exact scenario. Teacher wanted the kids to all pick books. One kid spots something on the shelf and gets visibly excited. Pulls it out and starts reading. Teacher sees it, snatches it off him and tells him that this is a book for 8 year olds (the kid was 15ish) and tells him to get a book more appropriate for his age. Kid slouches around the shelves for about 10 minutes, finally picks up a book at random and sits in his chair tucking the edges of each page into the binding to make that looped-page look. He didn’t read a word. He sat there and did this to his book for the remainder of the reading session: He had been genuinely excited about the 8 year old book he’d picked up. It was a new one in a series he used to read as a younger kid. He’d been actively sitting and reading, and then he was embarrassed in front of his classmates, told off for reading a kids book, and voila. He lost all enthusiasm for reading anything else that day. What’s worse? That kid had been hit by a car like a year and a half earlier. Severe brain trauma. Had to re-learn a lot of basic things, like how to speak and how to read. An 8 year old book would have been perfect for him. Easy enough to read that it would have helped rebuild his confidence in his own reading ability. A book meant for 15/16 years olds? A lot harder to read than a book for 8 year olds. Especially if you’re recovering from a relatively recent brain injury. And yeah, the teacher knew all about his brain injury, and the recovery. He just seemed go be of the opinion that the kid was 15, so he should be reading books for 15 year olds, irrespective of brain injury. Reading this thread I’m reminded of Daniel Pennae’s The Rights of the Reader, which can be found in a lot of bookshops and school libraries:  The child speaking at the bottom in Quentin Blake’s distinctive spiky handwriting is saying ‘10 rights, 1 warning: Don’t make fun of people who don’t read - or they never will’ : mighty-meerkat: bundibird: kaldicuct: vaporwavevocap: draconic-duelist: ranty9000: askshadetrixieandfamily: real-life-pine-tree: oddeyesarcpendulumdragon: based on a true story I don’t think Fortnite is to blame for kids nowadays not reading… That’s the joke. It’s the authoritarian overbearing parent. He was being sarcastic lol Reminded me of these That violin one hit close to home. I remember doing homework once, asked my grandmother if she was proud of me. “Do some thing for me to be proud of.” That hurt. That comic up there – I witnessed almost that exact scenario. Teacher wanted the kids to all pick books. One kid spots something on the shelf and gets visibly excited. Pulls it out and starts reading. Teacher sees it, snatches it off him and tells him that this is a book for 8 year olds (the kid was 15ish) and tells him to get a book more appropriate for his age. Kid slouches around the shelves for about 10 minutes, finally picks up a book at random and sits in his chair tucking the edges of each page into the binding to make that looped-page look. He didn’t read a word. He sat there and did this to his book for the remainder of the reading session: He had been genuinely excited about the 8 year old book he’d picked up. It was a new one in a series he used to read as a younger kid. He’d been actively sitting and reading, and then he was embarrassed in front of his classmates, told off for reading a kids book, and voila. He lost all enthusiasm for reading anything else that day. What’s worse? That kid had been hit by a car like a year and a half earlier. Severe brain trauma. Had to re-learn a lot of basic things, like how to speak and how to read. An 8 year old book would have been perfect for him. Easy enough to read that it would have helped rebuild his confidence in his own reading ability. A book meant for 15/16 years olds? A lot harder to read than a book for 8 year olds. Especially if you’re recovering from a relatively recent brain injury. And yeah, the teacher knew all about his brain injury, and the recovery. He just seemed go be of the opinion that the kid was 15, so he should be reading books for 15 year olds, irrespective of brain injury. Reading this thread I’m reminded of Daniel Pennae’s The Rights of the Reader, which can be found in a lot of bookshops and school libraries:  The child speaking at the bottom in Quentin Blake’s distinctive spiky handwriting is saying ‘10 rights, 1 warning: Don’t make fun of people who don’t read - or they never will’

mighty-meerkat: bundibird: kaldicuct: vaporwavevocap: draconic-duelist: ranty9000: askshadetrixieandfamily: real-life-pine-tree:...

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madnessofmen:only address me as The Friend from now on: Public Universal Friend The Public Universal Friend (born Jemima Wilkinson; November 29, 1752 – July 1, 1819), was born as an English- American to a Quaker family on Rhode Island, and was assigned female at birth. This person suffered a severe illness in 1776 (age 24), and reported having died and been reanimated by the power of God as a genderless evangelist named the Public Universal Friend. The Friend refused to answer any A portrait of the Public Universal a longer to the previous name, Friend, from the Friend's biography Jemima Wilkinson, (1 quoted Luke written by David Hudson in 1821. 23:3 ("thou sayest it") when visitors asked if it was the name of the person they were addressing, and ignored or chastised those who insisted on using it. The preacher shunned the name "Jemima" completely, having friends hold realty in trust rather than see the name on deeds and titles. Even when a lawyer insisted that the person's Will should identify its subject as having been born under the name Jemima, the preacher refused to sign that name, only making an X which others witnessed, even though the Friend could read and write.2) The Friend asked not to be referred to with gendered pronouns. Followers respected these wishes, avoiding gender-specific pronouns even in private diaries, and referring only to "the Public Universal Friend" or short forms such as "the Friend" or "P.U.F."3] madnessofmen:only address me as The Friend from now on

madnessofmen:only address me as The Friend from now on

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superunfriendlyreminder: This is an old practice. : Prya Murad @defendermurad Learned today that cops are just placing bikes that don't belong to anyone on the street and waiting to see who takes them and then arresting them. Is this literally the extent of "crime fighting" our tax dollars can pull off? Give me a break. 6:33 PM Oct 18, 2019 Twitter for iPhone 5.7K Likes 1.4K Retweets Emily Galvin-Almanza @GalvinAlmanza I remember NYPD hanging around outside methadone clinics on Saturdays, when people would get 2 doses to cover Sunday too. Undercovers would pretend to be in withdrawal & beg for someone's extra dose. If someone was kind enough to give it to them, they got arrested. For a felony. Scott Hechinger @Scott Hech Oct 19 "Police-created crime." My first legal internship was in NOLA for the Orleans Public Defenders. Witnessed tons of injustice Post-Katrina. Cops would be put food out in random cars w/ windows rolled down. People who were starving would reach in, grab food & get arrested for it. twitter.com/defendermurad/... 5:02 AM Oct 20, 2019 Twitter for Android 10.2K Likes 4K Retweets Scott Hechinger @ScottHech "Police-created crime." My first legal internship was in NOLA for the Orleans Public Defenders. Witnessed tons of injustice Post-Katrina. Cops would be put food out in random cars w/ windows rolled down. People who were starving would reach in, grab food & get arrested for it. Prya Murad @defendermurad Oct 18 Learned today that cops are just placing bikes that don't belong to anyone on the street and waiting to see who takes them and then arresting them. Is this literally the extent of "crime fighting" our tax dollars can pull off? Give me a break. 10:35 AM Oct 19, 2019 Twitt er for iPhone 6.6K Likes 3K Retweets > superunfriendlyreminder: This is an old practice.

superunfriendlyreminder: This is an old practice.

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thebiscuiteternal: lay-some-hate: wahbegan: teaboot: ryulongd: rune-midgarts: goodtimegang: brakehagev2: guys this is actually real like a real person wrote this “more than enough” oh you fucking saints, absolutely pouring wealth onto the unfortunates lol this is amazing Dear Prudie, I think I just witnessed a murder You fucking monster GET HER PRUDENCE No wonder why her name is PRUDENCE Time for the annual reblog! Reading an advice columnist absolutely eviscerating someone who obviously wrote in hoping to get their shitty attitude validated is always a delight. : Slate.com 5 hrs . Slate Dear Prudie: Do I have to give them candy? aT T-T Help! Kids From Poorer Neighborhoods Keep Trick- or-Treating in Mine. Slate.com Dear Prudence, I live in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the country, but on one of the more "modest" streets-mostly doctors and lawyers and family business owners. (A few blocks away are billionaires, families with famous last names, media moguls, etc.) I have noticed that on Halloween, what seems like 75 percent of the trick-or-treaters are clearly not from this neighborhood. Kids arrive in overflowing cars from less fortunate areas. I feel this is inappropriate. Halloween isn't a social service or a charity in which l have to buy candy for less fortunate children Obviously this makes me feel like a terrible person, because what's the big deal about making less fortunate kids happy on a holiday? But it just bugs me, because we already pay more than enough taxes toward actual social services. Should Halloween be a neighborhood activity, or is it legitimately a free-for-all in which people hunt down the best candy grounds for their kids? 91.6K 705 Slate Slate.com's Post See More thebiscuiteternal: lay-some-hate: wahbegan: teaboot: ryulongd: rune-midgarts: goodtimegang: brakehagev2: guys this is actually real like a real person wrote this “more than enough” oh you fucking saints, absolutely pouring wealth onto the unfortunates lol this is amazing Dear Prudie, I think I just witnessed a murder You fucking monster GET HER PRUDENCE No wonder why her name is PRUDENCE Time for the annual reblog! Reading an advice columnist absolutely eviscerating someone who obviously wrote in hoping to get their shitty attitude validated is always a delight.
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eldritch-crone: ylixia: Look at Rhodey. Look at that asshole. Look at him suuper casually curling his fist across his mouth. “Can you believe this guy?” His eyes try to say. “Can’t take anything seriously, so disrespectful, and I for one am so over his shenanigans.” Motherfucker no one is fooled. There’s only one reason people purse their lips and jam they fist all up in their face; You are about fifteen seconds from busting a gut laughing in the middle of a Very Serious Senate Hearing about National Security. The thing you want most in the world at this moment is to high five your best bro and shout “BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURN” at the top of your lungs for the epically beautiful take down you just witnessed. You know it, I know it, Tony sure as FUCK knows it, and I literally have no idea how you are keeping it together right now, goddamn. Well, you are 100% correct: : Hammer Industries, twenty eldritch-crone: ylixia: Look at Rhodey. Look at that asshole. Look at him suuper casually curling his fist across his mouth. “Can you believe this guy?” His eyes try to say. “Can’t take anything seriously, so disrespectful, and I for one am so over his shenanigans.” Motherfucker no one is fooled. There’s only one reason people purse their lips and jam they fist all up in their face; You are about fifteen seconds from busting a gut laughing in the middle of a Very Serious Senate Hearing about National Security. The thing you want most in the world at this moment is to high five your best bro and shout “BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURN” at the top of your lungs for the epically beautiful take down you just witnessed. You know it, I know it, Tony sure as FUCK knows it, and I literally have no idea how you are keeping it together right now, goddamn. Well, you are 100% correct:
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Wow: uncleromeo when I was 11, my (black) neighbor witnessed my house being broken into. she called the police to report the crime. I came home from school and the robber was still inside. I personally watched as a man I didnt know walked out of my home with our stuff. the police didnt show up for 3 days. when they did, they told us there was nothing the could do because we "staged the house". they claimed we hid our tv's and valuables to make it look like more was actually stolen. they never asked for a description, never visited the neighbor who saw the break-in, anf as they left, they told us that stolen property is almost never recovered and we should "buy more and get on with [our] lives" when I was 23, I was dog-sitting for a (white) friend. her neighbor called the police and said there was a strange black man in her yard. the police showed up in 5 minutes. 6 units, 12 officers, stormed the back yard as I was running around with the dog. some came through the house and I know for a fact that the front door was locked. they damaged around $5000 worth of property, took her dog to the pound, and me to jail. my friend had to cut her trip short and drive 4 hours back to get me from jail and explain to police in person that she knew me. because "that could be anybody on the phone". the neighbor was with her when she came. we had met several times before. she was neither embarrassed nor apologetic. moral of the story? too many of us have lived this. too many of us didn't survive. Wow

Wow

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