Longmont’s Village Idiot, Henry McNevin

Colorado is a “purple state”, so the myth goes, and every so often, our local media is forced to cover our state’s rube eccentrics, our “colorful” bootlickers, our Lost Cause Sons of the Confederacy racists and what their idiot views are despite time and demographic shifts rapidly diminishing any political capital any of these jackasses once had. The purple state is a myth, lip-service to slack-jawed bigots choosing to live out in the middle of nowhere playing farmer and pretending they’re the backbone of America as corporate agribusiness reduces their role in the economy to hobbyists spending their days riding a tractor they aren’t even allowed to fix themselves. They’re nothing but bumpkin cosplayers living off government subsidies while complaining about the “inner cities” that generate the revenue that enables them to live their “authentic, real American” lifestyle while they enjoy getting jerked off by district politicians that inflate their voting power due to gerrymandering, working as intended to keep the rest of the country held hostage by these backwards, salt-of-the-earth shitheads waiting around for fracking company to buy out their farm. When the skoal comes around to bite them in the ass with mouth cancer, I’ll dance on their graves and spit in the faces of their widows that didn’t nip their fascist talk radio habit in the bud forty years ago.

Henry McNevin, 84, of Longmont, CO (home to the World’s Largest Stickerball but slowly being taken over by craft breweries) is one such character. McNevin made the news last week in the midst of the Supreme Court confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh, putting a sign in his yard that said the judge had been gang-raped by Democrats, riling up sane members of the town on Nextdoor. This isn’t the first time McNevin has generated controversy, two years ago he put up a grammatically-challenged sign directed towards Muslims before having to take it down after some local heroes allegedly threatened to demonstrate in front of his house and “destroy his property.” Direct action gets the goods, Longmont.

McNevin is a waste of flesh and a hatemonger, spending his twilight years pissing people off through A-Frames because his way of life is essentially pointless in the modern era, his views abhorrent in a time when his neighbors and the rest of us wait out his generation’s death in a hope it isn’t too late to reverse course and move towards social progress. He’s an old troll, throwing out baseless accusations to see his name in the paper in an effort to validate his relevancy, and the media falls for it because we live in a time of sensationalism that uses outrage to generate ad revenue. Hiding behind the shield of the First Amendment, this sad old man’s dying gasps about people he’s likely never met or the fellatio of powerful men that don’t give a rat’s ass about him are more pathetic examples of this country’s worst elements stating things they “can say” when the reality is they probably should keep it to themselves. Googling him yields nothing of substance apart from his signs, likely destined for the garbage dump or a re-purposing for another flash-in-the-pan political sentiment. He will be remembered for nothing but ignorance, racism, and hyperbole.

Unless we act now.

For between $300-$700, the community of Colorado could erect its own sign, with its own baseless accusation that Henry McNevin routinely drugs and forces livestock to have sex with him. I’m frankly tired of seeing the establishment left time and time again take the high road with morons that barely have the common courtesy to get their facts straight. That’s why I’m raising money to fund a billboard in the Denver Metro area in tribute to McNevin’s memory. Please donate today, to pay back Henry for being a shit neighbor that has subjected thousands of people to his trash opinions for years, and to make sure he’s remembered for more than just being a racist and a rape apologist, but also a horse cock connoisseur, a bovine blower, and a pig penetration enthusiast. Let’s let highway commuters everywhere know about Henry’s own assumed predilections, just like he loves to broadcast his views about Islam and Democrats gang-raping Supreme Court Justices.

Henry McNevin of Longmont, Colorado rapes farm animals. Donate Today.

GUEST POST: Why is Everyone Making Such a Big Deal About Me Smoking a Cigarette in the Bathroom of This Greyhound Bus? – by Aging Female Meth Addict Smoking a Cigarette in the Bathroom of This Greyhound Bus

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You guys are being fuckin’ drama queens.

What? Yeah?! What? I’m in here! It’s occupied. Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. No, I wasn’t smoking. Well, ok. Alright. I was smoking. I’m sorry. I had the door closed, I don’t see why you’re freaking out. There’s a fuckin’ vent. This bathroom smells like piss, man!

Oh, stop. The whole bus does not smell like a Marlboro Red. What do you mean we can’t just air it out a little? The windows don’t open? I’ve been on this bus for two and half days and haven’t even realized that. Are you serious? Why is everyone looking at me?

Listen, I thought you were going to stop in Idaho Springs, and then you didn’t. Then, I thought we’d get at least a quick luggage loading break in Vail, but it didn’t happen. Do you really expect me to go three hours out of Denver without a heater? It’s like another 45 minutes to Glenwood, maybe 90 if this Dominican hits traffic. What? He looks Dominican! Racist? I bet you think everyone is fuckin’ racist. Can’t even call a spade a fuckin’ spade anymore.

I don’t remember anyone making this big of a deal when the guy dressed as Jack Sparrow in a nursing home spent an hour and a half loudly arguing with Vietnam Charlie over here about how medicine is a witchcraft perversion of God’s will and that the criminalization of marijuana is orchestrated by Satanists. This motherfucker is wearing a tri-corner hat yelling at Jesse “The Body” over here about fluoride in the water supply and nobody said shit. What? Who did? You? I musta nodded off. Little sorority bitch. Your tits won’t always look that good, sweetie. This is NOT a dye job, you little sorority bitch. I used to look like Geena Davis. White bitch. Cracker bitch. Fuck you! Let me tell you something, pirate boy, I coulda used some fluoride in the goddamn tap water. I don’t have any fuckin’ teeth left.

College ass bitch. Probably went to whore school you stupid whore bitch. Is that your boyfriend? That’s not his only beard, you dumb slut. You think you’re better than me? Rug muncher bitch.

I will sit down! Hold on. Let me get some shit straight. Quit calling me ‘meth lady’ alright? I’m 48 years old and I’m going to Riverside to an inpatient facility, alright? Anyone here been to the 909? I thought it was closer to LA, that’s why I’m wearing this Lakers sweatshirt from 1986 I found at a thrift store in Columbus. I’ve been clean seven weeks but Missouri is a fucking shithole run by rapist pigs that don’t give a rat’s ass if the dealers are out burning people with pipes over a little money owed. Yeah, whatever, Richard. Scar my left asscheek over $38. That’s gonna make it a lot easier for me to pay you back for that last bag. Didn’t you see that Clint Eastwood movie? Why don’t you just slash my face while you’re at it? Fuckin’ kid toucher. Fuckin’ horse fucker. Fuckin’…

Yeah he is! You don’t even know. You weren’t there. I had to leave. Court order.

What are you looking at, fag boy? With your fag hair. Who are you supposed to be, fuckin’ Jimmy Page? Is there vodka in that Red Bull you got? Are you watching football? What’s the score of the Rams game? Oh, they’re the night game? Alright. You’re alright. Where you goin’? Don’t ignore me! Faggot. I should hook you up with my homo son, you little queer. Doesn’t even call on my birthday. You like to party? I know he likes to party but he won’t even share with his own MAMA. Fuck Missouri. I’ve got more hairs on my chin than you, fag boy, what are you, a Puerto Rican? Half Pinoy? Fuckin’ bottom bitch. I quit takin’ it up the ass in 2005, what’s your fuckin’ excuse? Teresa Heinz lookin’ punk ass mark ass trick.

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The orange line there means ‘locked’ you prick. Have some respect for privacy, alright?

So whatever, the bus smells like cigarettes. You used to be able to smoke on these fuckin’ things, one isn’t going to kill you, millennial pansy asses. Half this bus is Mexican anyway. I bet you can still smoke on the bus in Mexico. Greyhound policy? My ass. You can’t kick me off this bus, you fuckin’ Honduran. We’re in the middle of nowhere. The fuckin’ Donner Party died out here and my Trac-Phone doesn’t even get a signal. You want me to just live in a tree? Just squat in some bushes like a fuckin’ raccoon? What are you, Guatemalan? Are you just an effeminate black? What’s your fuckin’ deal?

Who said ‘she knows what effeminate means?’? I’ll kick the shit out of you, bitch. Drop me off at the next Taco Bell. That’s where you should work, you fuckin’ Panamanian. I can’t believe you’re kicking me off this bus. If I’m not in Riverside by Thursday they’re going to revoke my probation and I’ll have another warrant. Stranding me over a cigarette. I can’t believe this shit. Let’s work something out, come on El Salvador. That’s your name now. That’s what I’m calling you. Let me at least stay on until Grand Junction. Come on, man. Don’t stop. We’re on the fuckin’ highway, where’s even a ramp I can walk off this motherfucker? You fuckin’ Grenadian. Fuckin’ Heartbreak Ridge piece of shit.

Yeah, whatever, I’ll get a ride. Next time, I’m taking fuckin’ Amtrak. You just lost a customer. This is going on fuckin’ Facebook, you fuckin’ ni-… You fuckin’ Nicaraguan.

Please Call the Epic Pass Something Else

Anyone functionally literate knows that in our modern parlance, there is possibly no word more overused than “epic.” Even the original internet curmudgeon who only writes like twice a year anymore took time to put his stamp on it eight fucking years ago. It’s like “awesome” but never quite casualized down to the point where it sounds nonchalantly correct when somebody says it. For it to be the defining word of the Colorado ski industry’s season pass advertising campaign, which is seen on billboards all over town and heard on radio spots constantly it can be an aggravating experience, especially for those of us who don’t understand or will never reap the tangible benefits. Mountain sports aren’t really for me, I don’t like being recreationally cold and a ski lift is basically a ferris wheel it’s easier to murder somebody on. The Epic Pass makes Colorado feel like living in a state populated entirely by 14 year-old boys playing Fortnite, another thing I’ve never participated in but I’ve about had it with all the same.

Costing nearly $1000 but available in a variety of restricted tiered flavors, the Epic Pass is probably an objective bargain if going down a hill screaming “wheeee” is your thing. Maybe you’re one of those jackasses that leaves them clipped to your snow jacket, desperately inviting conversation at a Starbucks from some other guy in pants everyone can hear when he walks. It’s fine. That’s your thing. I hope both of you end up like Sonny Bono, or Liam Neeson’s wife, whichever celebrity ski death reference is going to track, but it’s your stupid thing and everyone has one. For the rest of us, if as a society we could just rename it that’d really be great. I’ve got some suggestions!

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Double down on the irritating and obviously dated cool-guy lingo and let’s just go with Tubular Pass! Embrace snowboarding’s awkward DayGlo roots, rock a Wyld Stallyns t-shirt, and hit the slopes with a pass good all season in Colorado, Utah, and Lake Tahoe for one low price! You’re so cool. You bought a fanny pack before the ironic phase, drunkenly cut your own Trevor mullet after Charlie Blackmon decided on turning himself into the walking embodiment of a Duck Dynasty season 4 DVD, and you’re just 2 blazed 2 care. Get up to the timeshare, pound some natty ice, stash that vape pen, hit the lift, and go fuck yourself, brah.

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People like truth in their advertising, so this rebranding campaign would emphasize the nearly three hours in traffic you’ll spend getting from the gentrified, traffic-clogged hellscape of Denver to Silverthorne, a 65-mile drive. Sunday, after you’re hungover from lodge drinking, you’ll have another three hours of mind-numbing traffic to nurse your sore body and ruminate in contemplating suing a child for running into you at 10AM on Saturday. Leave your yuppie LoDo condo life behind for a weekend so you can huff Suburu exhaust fumes until you get so hungry you settle for the seventh Burger King you see in Frisco instead of the planned family meal at Beau Jo’s Pizza (it’s Colorado style!), which you could’ve just gotten in Arvada on the way up. You could take the ski train from Union Station to Winter Park, but you paid almost $1000 for this experience, you’ll be damned if you’re not going to resort-hop in your own Porsche Cayenne. You can’t listen to Imagine Dragons and get all pumped for the slopes on a shuttle! BELIEVER!

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Perhaps I’m being unfair in characterizing people who have hobbies that cost upwards of $5000 a year as resort-dwelling snobs or the type of pampered rich kids that fly in and rent RVs for music festivals. Maybe it was my young California upbringing, where for the base payment of a surfboard and some training in creative parking you could have a lifelong pastime that connected you to nature and a whole community of people in your area. In Colorado, nothing is affordable anymore, and if you work for less than $60K a year, forget being able to live in anything less than a two bedroom house with eight other people you met on Craigslist. Who has Breck condo money these days? This pass reflects the realities of being working class in Colorado while still trying to engage in some kind of recreational activity so you don’t blow your brains out all over the Fryolator. For the low cost of $450 on the season, pick one mountain to ski all winter long, and we’ll throw in your lodging: a futon in a trailer we’ve euphamized as a hip “tiny house” built for resort staff. You’ll be sharing it with a lift operator that’s been addicted to percocet since he blew out his knee in 2007 or a ski patrolman that targets Chinese tourists indiscriminate of gender for his sexual predilections. Bring some kush and craft beer, it’s used as currency in the employee “villages.”

Arvada’s Response to the G-Line Tests Illustrates How Astonishing it is That Anyone Here is Even Able to Put on Pants in the Morning

Without a doubt, and it has been said before, my favorite ax to grind is Colorado’s Regional Transport District. Seemingly resolute in their determination to prove that contracting out what should be a public utility to the lowest bidders actually undermines the lauded efficiencies of capitalism, they almost stand in direct defiance of America’s predominant worldview. It’s a case study as to why certain industries should never be run as a profit-motivated business.

It’s like a satire of a transit agency. Their trains are better vessels to commit suicide with than commute to work in. I’ve met heroin addicts more punctual than the overworked and underpaid operators and the construction and opening of new lines goes about as smoothly as rubbing your cock on a belt sander. It’s trash. It’s for the birds. Their board of directors ought to be flayed to ribbons, smoked and cured, and then turned into birdcage liner. A loosely-affiliated network of Romanian gypsy cab dispatchers could replace them with better results, a higher level of customer satisfaction, and less life-threatening stab wounds.

But in regards to the citizenry of Arvada complaining about the long-awaited, infinitely delayed G-Line testing process, for once I’m going to do the unthinkable and defend the absolute bane of my existence. My unyielding, vicious crusade will briefly take a knee to concentrate on the flank of another front, a group so vile I hate them even more than the tax scam artists at RTD: the people of Arvada, Colorado.

If you’ve never lived or worked in Arvada, let me break it down for you: everyone here is either 91 years-old with completely nothing to do or 12 and-a-half with completely nothing to do. They roll up the sidewalks at about ten at night, making the only people still awake in town cops looking for the seventeen drunk white supremacists driving around after hanging out at a strip-mall dive bar that is named after the shopping center it’s nestled into. There are no jobs outside of short-lived retail stores run by former stay-at-home moms needing a pet project, the corporate service industry (or smaller restaurants barely fighting off their seventh sexual harassment lawsuit), or wiping the shit out of the asses of the generation that ruined this country (but somehow still own every rental property in the metro area not gobbled up by some Air B&B Techbro from Riverside, CA or scummy housing flipper) in the various retirement and nursing homes that dot the post-farming community landscape. Any quaint charm said farming industry might have had is disintegrated by the view of four starving, token horses the property owner keeps alive while he waits for a development company to buy him out and build a new gaudy subdivision with substandard building materials. If you’re a licensed EMT, you can work for one of the 30 private urgent care facilities, where you drive an ambulance around town annoying everybody while you cart out the aged dead at rates unseen since the Black Plague. Continue reading →

US Prisoners Strike Against 13th Amendment Sanctioned Slavery

“The degree of civilization in a society is revealed by entering its prisons.”

-Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Today, after months of preparation, many prisoners in the United States will go on an unprecedented work strike in protest of inhumane treatment and exploitation within the penal system. Starting today and ending on September 9th, the anniversary of the 1971 Attica uprising, it’s likely that many inmates will face absurd and unjust retaliation for their organizing work (some already have), supported primarily by the Incarcerated Workers Organizing Committee, a branch of the IWW, which I was a member of for several years. It’s important that the public is aware of the gravity of this situation, the issues being raised, and that as “citizens” we turn as much focus as possible towards this struggle in an effort to protect some of the least visible human beings in society from further violence at the hands of the institutions that hold them. Their demands are not lofty:

  1. Immediate improvements to the conditions of prisons and prison policies that recognize the humanity of imprisoned men and women.
  2. An immediate end to prison slavery. All persons imprisoned in any place of detention under United States jurisdiction must be paid the prevailing wage in their state or territory for their labor.
  3. The Prison Litigation Reform Act must be rescinded, allowing imprisoned humans a proper channel to address grievances and violations of their rights.
  4. The Truth in Sentencing Act and the Sentencing Reform Act must be rescinded so that imprisoned humans have a possibility of rehabilitation and parole. No human
    shall be sentenced to Death by Incarceration or serve any sentence without the possibility of parole.
  5. An immediate end to the racial overcharging, over-sentencing, and parole denials of Black and brown humans. Black humans shall no longer be denied parole because the victim of the crime was white, which is a particular problem in southern states.
  6. An immediate end to racist gang enhancement laws targeting Black and brown humans.
  7. No imprisoned human shall be denied access to rehabilitation programs at their place of detention because of their label as a violent offender.
  8. State prisons must be funded specifically to offer more rehabilitation services.
  9. Pell grants must be reinstated in all US states and territories.
  10. The voting rights of all confined citizens serving prison sentences, pretrial detainees, and so-called “ex-felons” must be counted. Representation is demanded. All voices count.

In Colorado, several inmates at the Sterling Correction Facility reported to the Denver Anarchist Black Cross (disclosure: I was also a member of this organization, a prisoner support group, for a number of years) that they have begun a hunger strike in response to punitive policies that have placed several dozen prisoners in administrative segregation in a collective punishment practice. Inmates are citing a settled case that is supposed to place restrictions on solitary confinement in Colorado, as well as demanding crucial commissary restitution after prison-issued tablets were recalled and outstanding subscription money wasn’t refunded. The men in Sterling are also fighting for correspondence courses to strengthen ties with family on the outside.

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Eric King

I’d also like to use this space to bring attention to the case of Eric King, incarcerated for actions taken in support of the Ferguson Revolt and sentenced to ten years in federal penitentiary. Eric was moved to a Secure Housing Unit (solitary) last week and then transferred to the high-security SHU in Florence, Colorado. The reasons for this punishment is unclear, and it remains to be seen if this is connected to the larger prison strike struggle, as Eric is a vocal political prisoner, but has also been put in the SHU before after filing complaints about a guard who threatened Eric and his partner’s children during a visit, and the authorities blamed his correspondence with people on the outside. You can learn more about Eric King here, and he loves receiving mail! His updated address is posted here alongside guidelines for writing him. His partner was recently in a car accident and is fighting health issues. She is a friend of mine, and if you feel so inclined, please donate to help offset the costs of her medical treatments and automobile repairs.

On the outside, active solidarity to support prisoners is springing up across the United States and the world. It’s Going Down is constantly updating a page with news and ways to help, including call-in campaigns, rallies, and other actions to take to support the strike. The despicable “Silent Sam” statue was toppled last night at UNC-Chapel Hill in North Carolina and demonstrators held banners in support of the strike. Widespread graffiti murals have been reported and photographed as far away as Lisbon, Portugal and Indonesia.

I’ll be writing as much as I can about the strike as news breaks, likely trying to keep my focus on local facilities and solidarity actions here in Colorado in the next few weeks. Until all are free, strength to the prison rebels.

AAron Ontiveroz, The Denver Post

Broncos Anger God, Invite Torrential Downpour After Blowing 13 Point Lead

There’s no real reason to get too worked up about losing an NFL preseason game in the fourth quarter with third-string players on the field. Being up 23-10 after three stings a bit, but the first and second squads had good showings early on, key players looked returned to form, and drives came together in a way that was both productive and satisfying to watch. Last week, an increasingly frustrating coaching staff marched into the opening game against the Minnesota Vikings with an… avant-garde game plan, in which the team was clearly experimenting and seeing what could stick to the wall. That’s fine for a preseason game, although I think most fans prefer something a little more structured and goal oriented. Against the Chicago Bears, a team that finished last in their division last year, the Broncos looked pretty lethal at times, with Von Miller on the field longer than most people would probably like and Emmanuel Sanders blossoming new chemistry with 2018’s hired gun QB Case Keenum.

Royce Freeman and CU alum Phillip Lindsay dominated the running game over Broncos veteran Devontae Booker, both clearly deserving spots on the final roster. Jeff Hue-Hue-Hue-Heuerman, a sorely underused tight-end weapon, looked like a bouncer at closing time, fighting for every bit of yardage he could get and scoring on a two-point conversion after a running TD from Freeman early on in the second quarter. First-round draft pick Bradley Chubb forced a safety after a bobbled snap, and Justin Simmons caught an interception to bring in “back up” Chad Kelly, quickly becoming a fan favorite in the preseason for his physicality and clear QB IQ. Everything was looking great. I think everyone knows it’s the Bears, but the Broncos played legitimately good football for basically three and a half quarters. This Kelly to Sutton touchdown near the two-minute warning right before halftime is an absolute thing of beauty:

After last week’s disastrous, downright depressing showing by first-round bust Paxton Lynch, most fans, including myself, were calling for him to be cut from the team or traded to another franchise dumb enough to take a chance on him. Lynch was booed as he took the field and again periodically as he threw 5/11 for 39 yards, most of which were YAC against a third-string defense from one of the worst-performing teams in the league. He’s abysmal, yet had the audacity in the post-game presser to claim that he “wants to be THE quarterback, not the backup.” If anything, tonight cemented my claims last week that Lynch doesn’t even belong in the NFL, much less warming the bench in Denver. Local sporting press is starting to feel bad for him, despite urging the team to “make a move”, and head coach Vance Joseph, traditionally a little bit cagey regarding questions about Lynch, seemed particularly unleashed when commenting on him getting booed at Mile High. Again. Even ex-Bronco RB CJ Anderson admonished fans for booing:

A lot is being made about the Isiah McKenzie fumble, and although I think he’s tested quite a bit of patience after earning a reputation for dropping punt returns last year, that was a bang-bang great defensive play from the Bears and McKenzie did what he could. I really hope his confidence isn’t shaken, because he’s shown a lot of progress from last year and I believe he’s earned a spot on the roster without a question. He looked dejected on the sidelines after that play, in which he was fighting for extra yardage with defenders on his ankles before having the ball punched out of his grasp. There’s no shame there, he’s out to prove himself.

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Local deity, pictured after a Broncos loss.

I was fortunate enough to be commuting into work shortly after the game when the Denver metro area finally let open the monsoon it had been brewing since the late afternoon. Luckily, the lightening that had been persistent for much of the game didn’t delay anything. I’ve been out of town for several of the summer storms, which I’ve cherished in the nearly 15 years I’ve spent here, and this was definitely the hardest, most sustained rain I’d seen all year without any added hail. After a 24-23 loss in the final two minutes, I’m assuming the Gods were absolutely furious at another week of Paxton Lynch provoking an entire region of the United States into more wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Next game: Friday 8/24 at 5:30pm MST @ Washington.

 

An Extralegal Execution in Aurora

Very early Monday morning in Aurora, Colorado, 73-year-old Richard “Gary” Black woke up to find a woman on his porch attempting to retrieve her 26-year-old son, who she said was on drugs and not likely in control of his actions. Black raced upstairs, where he found that a nude man, later identified as the 26-year-old Dajon Harper, had dragged his 11-year-old grandson from the living room into a bathroom, where he was strangling and attempting to drown the boy. Black, a Vietnam combat veteran, started to beat the man and reportedly tried to gouge out one of his eyes in an effort to free his grandson to no avail, went and retrieved a handgun, and shot Harper dead.

Black’s wife had been on the phone with 911 and police reported hearing gunshots as they approached the house. Black walked into his living room, where police shot him dead through a window from outside the house. Police reportedly didn’t identify themselves but claimed for “around thirteen seconds” they screamed at Black five times to drop his weapon. The whereabouts of Harper’s mother during the incident are presently unknown. Black reportedly suffered hearing damage from his time in Vietnam, as well as further degradation due to old age, and also likely had very little auditory function after firing a handgun inside of a bathroom. Aurora Chief of Police Nick Metz has blamed Mr. Black’s actions for his death, despite the as-of-yet unnamed police officer being involved in a fatal shooting in June and recently returned to duty.

The same police department that took in Aurora theater shooter James Holmes into custody alive murdered a man defending his family in his own home, from outside the house, who was an entirely different ethnicity and wearing specifically described clothing than the suspect detailed during the emergency phone call. That’s an indictment of incompetence and poor training that underscores the “fearful”, wanton bloodlust of police culture in America, where academies constantly drill a shoot-first-ask-question-later mentality with phrases like “better to be judged by twelve than carried out by six.” Anyone paying attention in the last thirty years knows that phrase is far accurately “better to get several weeks of ‘paid administrative leave’ and no charges.”

Continue reading →