“The way I look at addiction now is completely different,” Mr. Adams said. “I can’t tell you what changed inside of me, but these are people and they have a purpose in life and we can’t as law enforcement look at them any other way. They are committing crimes to feed their addiction, plain and simple. They need help.”
So addicts were not “people” until just now. And they had no “purpose in life.” This statement is so oblivious, so unfeeling, so brutally dismissive of all that went before something “changed inside of [him.] All that he as a police officer was a party to: Death, incarceration, indifference to young black lives. And he cannot hear himself standing there saying that black lives did not and do not matter.
An undated photo of Frank Bolden, left, and Sarah Vaughan, right, with another woman and man at piano, in an unknown club with a portrait of Ann Baker.
Beyond amazing for the subjects and the dazzling photography — all angles, movement, mirrors, reflections, frames within frames within frames (as composition and as visual pun). Full face, 3/4, and profiles. Stunning.
You can say I should join the tin foil hat club, but dammit, I find myself willing to entertain the possibility that there is a sort of informal competition/initiation/bragging rights thing going on. Without three camera, Hollywood-worthy, video and soundtrack, these executioner cops end up on administrative leave with pay, are defended for free by union lawyers, and walk 99.9% of the time. Excellent odds.
I’m a day late, but Happy Birthday to the great Chuck Berry.You know all the times you did unlikely shit and can’t prove it? Check out the dancing’ fool with her blue wig hat on her head. Yes! Done and documented.
Brother Ray raised it up, and Keb’Mo’ is keepin’ ON, and I love the way so many in the audience, no fools they (including the FLOTUS), are processing the depths of irony of the historical moment, the place, and the song.
Matthew Ajibade was a 22 year old student at the Savannah College of art And Design
LET’S BE CLEAR: there is a stratum of American law enforcement that functions as a vicious, brutal, racist criminal enterprise. We cannot know the number, but any talk about “a few bad apples” is cynical and dishonest. District Attorneys, prosecutors, municipal governments, politicians, at best choose to ignore what they are fully aware of. At worst, they collude and protect. The police are enforcers of the white American will.
Once more I am mourning the senseless execution of beautiful souls torn to shreds in the prime of their lives and in the middle of their ordinary. I am grieving more premature funerals and canceled weddings and discarded futures—and I want to be alone right now.
Gun lover, please don’t tell me you’re grieving along with me today too. I just don’t think I want your company.
If you’re still against greater gun control measures—you don’t get to grieve with me today.
If you’re part of the zealous, gun-glorifying community—you don’t get to grieve with me today.
If you are a militant, unrepentant NRA apologist—you don’t get to grieve with me today.
If your right to bear arms ultimately matters more to you than the human wreckage strewn about the Umpqua campus (and schools and movie theaters and shopping malls and highways)—you don’t get to grieve with me…