“THUG”

The word has been getting an awful lot of attention lately

Why?

[To say that I’m a fan of Richard Sherman is an understatement]

Who is questioning whether it’s a racial slur? It’s simple; there are people who have voiced a distaste for the word, regardless if you want to call it a racial slur or not, it’s disrespectful.

I don’t appreciate being called a slut because I’m a female. There are white people who don’t like the word honky, either. Kid’s probably don’t like being called, little shits.

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At some point, I hope society as a whole can grow the #uck up and realize that we’re all PEOPLE. All shapes, sizes, ages, colors & education levels make bad decisions & live in ways that functional members of society have to deal with. We [as mature adults] need to be held to a higher standard.

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What are we teaching the younger generations when trying to decide if Thug is a racial slur or not makes NATIONAL NEWS? If anything is ever going to change, we’re going to have to work together as one big society of people and come to a solution that trumps name calling. I’ve been outspoken in regards to the Baltimore Riots and the medias coverage of it. Things are not being shown because every outlet wants to give it’s viewers the most dramatic story & now we’re focusing on a word?

[29 Moments That Show Another Side Of The Baltimore Riots]

I may be naive or disgustingly optimistic, but I refuse to believe there are more bad than good people in this country. The bad, unfortunately, just seem to get more attention.

Properly Ridiculous Reasoning: Baltimore Riots

One could say the Baltimore Riots are ridiculous; one could also say it’s proper. The pictures of cars on fire are just as frightening as the death of Freddie Gray; for two completely different reasons. It was only a matter of time before riots like this started happening.

The age of instant communication is among us, friends & foes. The simplicity to record, tweet and share to a million-billion-trillion various media outlets is what has changed, and not much else. Freddie Gray is only the most recent of accounts regarding police brutality & questionable actions by those who are supposed to protect and serve.

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In leu of the death of Freddie Gray while in police custody, a lieutenant, a sergeant and four other officers have been suspended [with pay] in Baltimore; one of the officers has refused to give a statement. Whose rights are being protected? Is that legal? 

[The 45-minute mystery of Freddie Gray’s death]

There isn’t anyone who holds any sort of power who can explain or are willing to give a logical explanation to how Freddie Gray suffered a crushed voice box and spinal cord injuries that killed him.

Dead.

Do police officers receive special training? I’ve never attended a police academy but the education process, I’d have to imagine it’s fairly extensive, with lots of training for different scenarios and outcomes. Why are so many people with special training resorting to deadly force? Without throwing a bunch of numbers in your face U.S. Cops Kill at 100 Times the Rate of Other Capitalist Countries.

Everyone is so caught up with the hype and craziness of it all it seems to be forgotten that this human being was brutally taken from this earth. It does not matter why he ran or what color his skin was, there isn’t a way to justify the events that led up to his death.

The people of Baltimore feel the only way to be heard is to create madness while the police officers monitor and attempt to control the unbalance of power. It’s now national news. President Obama’s been called. The Oriel’s game has been canceled and a state of emergency issued. Small local business suffering along with the rest of the community as their stores and places of business get busted into and ransacked.

So many police officers in our country want nothing more than to protect the community and serve their fellow citizens. These police officers have families who now, have to watch their loved one walk out the door, not knowing what they’ll be faced with. There are less than honorable people who passed the tests and recieved a badge; the police shouldn’t be smothered with a blanket judgement either.

Judgment seems to be an underlying issue that doesn’t get a lot of attention. Aside from the color of ones skin – we don’t talk much more about it. We judge the police officers, we judge the neighborhood, we judge the witnesses who are telling their story, and now we sit and judge the dead guy.

He had drug arrests in the past. He ran from a police officer. He wasn’t cooperating. 

None of that matters.

Black lives matter, White lives matter, Police officers lives matter. People, in general, matter.

A Child’s Lying Confession

What are you doing? 

The question startled my 9 year old brother who was struggling to get the receiver of our telephone back on the wall. Quickly, with a tiny *ring* as it connected back on its hook, my brother bolted to the opposite side of the kitchen and very poorly lied:

I’m trying to get a paper towel, but I can’t reach!

If this was present day I would have called him stupid for thinking I’d actually believe that – maybe punch him in the arm? …ya know, now that we’re grownups and all.

That morning however, I didn’t; I stood there with a confused look on my 7 year old face. Before anymore lies could escape my brother’s mouth that same old-school house phone started ringing.

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Like clockwork, my sister who is older than both of us comes strolling down the stairs and answers it.

It’s the police.

Making sure everything is A-OK because they just received a hang up call from our number.

I wasn’t worried. My brother will fess up & we can all go on with our morning. My mother picks up the phone, all sleepy like:

Hello?

Yes…

Mmmhmm…

Yes officer, everything is just fine here. I’ll make sure to talk to the kids about it.

Thank you.

For hours on end we sat at the kitchen table.

H-O-U-R-S. 

It’s important for you to know that I am not exaggerating; I couldn’t take it anymore. Liar McLiar-Pants wasn’t budging from his paper towel story and eventually these words escaped my mouth:

I DID IT.

I made the decision that the lecture had already happened (a few times) & the talking was completed in the hours spent at the table. I mean, what could really happen if I just innocently fess up to make it all end? …Go to my room? Okay. Anything would be better than where I was.

Well, let me tell you what can happen:

You ma’am are going to make a home-made Christmas Ornament and march it down the police station & apologize for wasting their time!

– My Mother

……I DIDN’T DO IT.

-Me

It was entirely too late. Not only did my mother not believe me… even if she did, she was done sitting at that table. I’m not sure whose face of relief was bigger…hers, or my lying brothers. Jerk.

The ornament was a reindeer; handmade with fleece. I attempted to Google Image Search these festive-amazing things…but I’m sorry to report that my mother might have made them up. 7 pages into the search & not a single picture looked even similar to the Christmas decor we made growing up.

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I already touched mildly regarding my dear brother’s face when I announced it was I…who called 9-1-1…

but let’s take it one tiny step further.

The smugness throughout the rest of the process was something he should win an award for.

The ride to the police station was much worse than where I was earlier that morning, at least then I was comfy in my PJ’s. Now, I was being chauffeured to apologize for something 2/3s of the people in the car knew I didn’t do.

HAVE THEM GIVE ME A LIE DETECTOR TEST!

To think I thought they’d actually use the time and resources to give a 7 year old girl a lie detector test is a bit ridiculous – But at that point, anything was game. Our car takes the slow turn into the police station and I swing my door open, my eyes never leaving my brothers face…

This was me…

serious

And, this was him…

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I meander through the doors of the big bad police station, not positive if I’m more mad at myself for saying I did it, my brother for not fessing up at all, at any point…or my mom for making me do this.

As I slid the magnet on the counter…slowly and awkwardly I muttered:

I’m sorry I called 9-1-1 this morning.

I won’t do it again.

…………..I made this reindeer magnet for you…………..

[If there was no snide, I-Hate-My-7-Year-Old-Life-Tone in your head while reading that quote…please try again…I’ll wait.]

Ya know, here’s the thing…Ultimately, it was my own fault for taking the blame. Ultimately, my brother did exactly what I would have done in his position & so did my mother.
I can take that all in, as a grown woman. I’m happy to inform you also that my brother & I get along much better these days.

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…But I’ll never stop telling this story.