an undermentioned specific part of protocol that should be brought up is the homogenous black guy. dispatch: "black male, 5'9", last spotted near at the intersection of spring garden and tate streets." cop: "LOOK PARTNER A BLACK GUY!" *rolls up on black guy to see if it's him* i have a bunch of black friends (i know, i know) who've related ridiculous frequencies of this sort of thing. all five foot nine black guys evidently look the same. finding a way to adjust this type of behavior would go a long way towards extracting the institutional mistrust the black community often withholds from the police. departments all too often make enemies of young black boys very early on and it never quite ends.
"locked onto the car?" it would've taken nothing to disengage from the vehicle. the instant the car started moving he thought "yes! justification to kill!" and had enough time (or lack of velocity) to unholster, place the muzzle against the man's temple, and squeeze the trigger. any reasonable person will cringe watching this video and admit that police culture and ROI need a change. this is absolutely horrific.
agree. there's a wide gulf right now. but all the community powwows in the universe won't solve the immediate problem if we don't also employ body cams and have dialogues with the departments to change rules of engagement and other culturally-defined protocols.
if that were the case, we'd see the exact same number of deaths if rocket launchers were freely available versus sharpened pencils. "it's a people issue" is a kind of truth, but it's also a deflection that's tantamount to saying cancer is a people issue. yeah, duh, it's a people issue, and to an extent uncontrollable, but let's try to actually fix it, huh?
yeah the top of the class was predictably filled with priors. you could tell some of these assholes woke up, stumbled out of bed at the frat house, and onto the bus to quantico. tons of guys didn't make it. we had one guy that kept purposely falling out on runs to try to get dropped, but after they threatened to silver bullet him he just sat down in the barracks one day during an inspection and and pretend passed out. we never saw him again. another one was a colossal fugup, this tiny frat kid out of texas a&m. every platoon has one just like this guy. he couldn't do anything right. our ssgt was yelling at him one day when he tried to be platoon leader and told him to march past the chow line until he told him to stop. then he got distracted with someone else's fuged up formation (probably mine) and then realized candidate dumbass took it literally and was nowhere to be found. his ass was waist deep in the potomac river. they dropped him about two weeks before graduation.
i don't count as military because i was an entry-level discharge after graduating USMC OCS with torn cartilage in both knees, but my best OCS moments were mostly chucklefugs laughing when they weren't supposed to laugh. like the short black gravel-throated SSGT from lima company screaming in candidate shithead's face and asking if he shaved with his goddamn shoe, and everyone laughed because poo is always ten times as funny under stress (that was like day two.) or when this tall guy that looked like an actual penis started applying sunscreen out on the parade deck and told converging drill instructors that his mom told him he had to. it's the only time i've seen a DI have to turn away to laugh. my first night after the drop the DIs ran everyone through the barracks and told everyone they had thirty seconds to shower and shave. i was a 19-year-old little poo with zero facial hair, and i could go a week without busting so much as a piece of peach fuzz, so i skipped shaving, dressed, and went straight to my rack. i was the first one out and stood at attention while all these other candidates tripped over each other scrambling out of the head with blood streaming from fresh gashes in their faces. awesome. one night two guys were on fire watch and SSGT decided to fug with them. the guys on watch were both black, the only two black guys in the company. one of them walked into the head, looked over at the stalls, and saw a pair of black calves under the wall. you're not supposed to take a poo on fire watch, and the guy, who was a prior, flew around the corner of the doorless stall and yelling at the candidate. but it was the SSGT, who stared at him and yelled YOU TRYING TO WATCH ME TAKE A poo CANDIDATE?! and candidate bugged off in a hurry. OCS was tough poo. i've never been to parris island or san diego, so i can't compare it with enlistee training, but generally the philosophy in OCS is your weakest officer has to be better than your strongest enlisted guy, at least physically. so they wore us out. part of the training was getting you deprived of sleep long-term and seeing how you handle complex tasks. we averaged 3-4 hours of sleep a night for the duration of training, and a lot of it was sucked up by having to do stuff like write 1000-word essays by hand using only two-syllabal words. the guy that looked like a penis was such a fugup, he had to re-write the same one for a week. he didn't sleep a lot. our version of the crucible was a three-day outing with one hour of sleep. i sledged my thumb with my e-tool and a corpsman had to wrap it up. i felt like a bitch. 13-mile night hump with gear. at dawn the dumbass kid at the front of the column stopped in front of a muddy pond and freaked because there was a copperhead sitting on the bank. gunny drew his sidearms and emptied it at the snake, scared the christ out of it and then pushed candidate dumbass into the pond. everyone followed. that day i found a strawberry milkshake in my MRE. it was the only thing i bothered to spend time making, because strawberry milkshake MREs are bitchin. that was probably the best day of OCS. i got all my highest scores on the problem-solving/leadership exercises and land nav, the latter of which was all perfect scores. my general peer leadership scores sucked ass. i blame it on homeschool and the fact that one of my biggest sources of pride at the time was that i didn't say a single swear word during all of OCS. it didn't help i got the shaft on day one. in OCS you have candidate leaders running poo from the outset, and i got assigned candidate platoon leader on the first day. this meant i had to call cadence, run formations, everything. i didn't know what the fug i was doing. i was the platoon guinea pig for all the unlucky bastards who weren't prior enlistees who hadn't ever seen any of this poo before. that was all ten years ago. i graduated, had growing knee problems leading up to my college graduation/commissioning, got my knees scoped, and was diagnosed with torn cartilage and bone fragmentation in the joint. i got a rejection letter, two arthroscopic surgeries, and then hit a massive existential crisis and began a whole journey that led to massive amounts of traveling. now i sit around on football message boards writing libtard hit pieces on the state of our nation and don't give proper accolades to our country's troops. i miss being in such good shape.
Mayor A C Wharton was also at Saturday night’s news conference. He was asked about the number of guns on the streets of Memphis. “We won’t make any political statements here. But once again, this is evidence that there are so many guns on the streets in the wrong hands.”
gettles has to be keeping an eye on the waiver wire for veteran camp cuts. i also can't help but wonder if williams or remmers might be worth a damn at LT, which would be useful considering either one of them could probably start at RT.