It took some time and a convo w/ my mom to get here to feel this way…
One of the kids who killed my brother was underage. He’s been in prison for almost a decade already and he’s going to serve a few more. But I know he can turn his life around and do good in this world.
I spent my youth as a member of a war machine that didn’t just kill one person, but hundreds of thousands of innocent people. So who tf am I to be all judgmental?
And I’ve spent every waking moment since trying to do good. It’s the least I can fucking do.
I watch these videos coming out of Iraq and Afghanistan and they make me sick to stomach for so many reasons.
And maybe it took seeing my brother’s bullet riddled body on a metal slab to realize the truly horrific shit we did overseas.
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So I’ve been doing some research about the murderous dictator, Francisco Franco, for a project. He often gets overlooked in history books because of other psychopaths like Hitler and Mussolini. That said, the similarities between Francoist Spain and the GOP is eerily similar. /TW
Some background: Like America, in the 1930s, Spain’s Republican Party was the party of the left. They were liberals. They reduced the size of the military, they took religion out of schools, land was taken away from the ultra rich conservatives, etc.
Francisco Franco was a lifelong soldier and worked his way to the top of the chain of command over several decades. He was also a far right nationalist and with half the military behind him he oversaw in insurrection that would turn into the Spanish Civil War.
I put in an order at Firehouse Subs and dude said, “Yeah, I don’t really feel like making anymore sandwiches tonight. I’m gonna close an hour early. Sorry.”
And you know what, I respect it.
My mans was like
Need someone to photoshop a turkey provolone sub into this photo because solidarity
So I don’t really believe in ghosts or anything like that. But maybe I should say “I didn’t believe in ghosts”—didn’t being past tense, because one night all of that changed. And I’mma tell y’all the story as soon as I make myself some coffee.
Okay, so a little backstory: I grew up in the Bay Area, right around the corner from Santa Cruz. In the 70’s, Santa Cruz was known as “The Murder Capital of the World” because the sleepy coastal town produced more serial killers per capita than any other place on the planet.
Two nights ago I was in the mood for a milkshake. But because I’m a black man who drives an expensive car and I live in a predominantly white neighborhood, the story ends with me getting pulled over by a cop looking for a confrontation.
If you click on the OP, there’s a thread with pictures and everything. I watched this cop spot me the second I pulled out of the parking lot and he followed me for 2 miles. The second I turned into my neighborhood off the main road he lit me.
Switched the music from rap to Bon Iver, hands at the 10 and 2, roll down the window. “Hey man, how’s your night going?” Not any house slave shit, but not gonna give this dude an excuse, ya know?