Gonna Be
Gonna Be

Gonna Be

Least
Least

Least

Is Gonna Be
Is Gonna Be

Is Gonna Be

Thats Enough
Thats Enough

Thats Enough

Heres
Heres

Heres

Why Because
Why Because

Why Because

Thats
Thats

Thats

At Least
At Least

At Least

Gonna Be A Good Day
Gonna Be A Good Day

Gonna Be A Good Day

Good
Good

Good

🔥 | Latest

Bitch, College, and Tumblr: Trump wondered why Mount |Vernon isn't named after |George Washington. Here's why. By Gillian Brockell April 10 at 9:37 AM President Trump was not impressed with a tour of the first commander in chiefs home last year, Politico reported Wednesday, describing his visit to Mount Vernon with French President Emmanuel Macron and their wives as "truly bizarre." "If he was smart, he would've put his name on it," Trump reportedly said. "You've got to put your name on stuff or no one remembers you." On the subject of whether anyone remembers George Washington, The Washington Post, which is based in the capital city of Washington (not Washington state) near George Washington University, would refer readers to the fact that Washington has come in first or second in nearly every "best presidents" poll conducted, including the most recent one, in 2018, by Siena College Research Institute. Trump, in case you're wondering, came in 42nd out of 45 commanders in chief. marloweseyeball: squided: amanda-fior: randomslasher: bethanyactually: *googles ‘how to nominate reporter for Peabody Award’* x I literally just got dehydrated from all the salt in that one paragraph I want to know who the 3 presidents are that are ranked lower than Trump 1. Nixon (asshole) 2. Reagan (super asshole) 3. Zachary Taylor (died after one and a half years of presidency like a bitch) Trump is ranked lower than William Henry Harrison, who died after just 31 days in office. He ranked lower than a man whose presidential legacy is that his inauguration speech was so damn long he gave himself pneumonia because of it and…died. I mean, damn.
Bitch, College, and Tumblr: Trump wondered why Mount
 |Vernon isn't named after
 |George Washington. Here's
 why.

 By Gillian Brockell
 April 10 at 9:37 AM
 President Trump was not impressed with a tour of the first
 commander in chiefs home last year, Politico reported
 Wednesday, describing his visit to Mount Vernon with French
 President Emmanuel Macron and their wives as "truly bizarre."
 "If he was smart, he would've put his name on it," Trump
 reportedly said. "You've got to put your name on stuff or no one
 remembers you."
 On the subject of whether anyone remembers George
 Washington, The Washington Post, which is based in the capital
 city of Washington (not Washington state) near George
 Washington University, would refer readers to the fact that
 Washington has come in first or second in nearly every "best
 presidents" poll conducted, including the most recent one, in
 2018, by Siena College Research Institute. Trump, in case you're
 wondering, came in 42nd out of 45 commanders in chief.
marloweseyeball:

squided:

amanda-fior:

randomslasher:

bethanyactually:
*googles ‘how to nominate reporter for Peabody Award’* x
I literally just got dehydrated from all the salt in that one paragraph


I want to know who the 3 presidents are that are ranked lower than Trump


1.  Nixon (asshole)
2.  Reagan (super asshole)
3.  Zachary Taylor (died after one and a half years of presidency like a bitch)


Trump is ranked lower than William Henry Harrison, who died after just 31 days in office. He ranked lower than a man whose presidential legacy is that his inauguration speech was so damn long he gave himself pneumonia because of it and…died.
I mean, damn.

marloweseyeball: squided: amanda-fior: randomslasher: bethanyactually: *googles ‘how to nominate reporter for Peabody Award’* x I litera...

Clothes, Money, and Old Man: See this old man? Here's why he is one of the best people in the world... This is 99 year old Dobri Dobrev, a man who lost most of his hearing in the second World War, has spent decades traveling 25 kilometers by foot every day, decked in his homemade clothes and leather shoes, from his village to the city of Sofia, Bulgaria, where he spends the day begging for money. Strangely enough, Dobrev isn't begging for himself He manages to live with an 80 euros pension (rougly 100 usd) a month. All the money that he has collected over the years (an estimated 40.000 euros) have been donated by him to orphanages unable to pay their bills. He doesn't keep a cent of the money he receives. Everything is for the orphanages. Some call him "The saint of Baylovo", his place of birth. This year he will be 100 years old. ARS ParaHecilrioc A SP CAPHI CT IOCTHNCT YPABO BECENCT CCPMO HEHO 6:Ba IPENANST borA TEHN WiseCT As one might expect, he is cherished by everybody. They call him Dyado Dobri (Grandpa Dobri) and he represents the good that can be done in the most selfless way possible. So, if you're in need of a role model, here's one. Just by being a little bit like him, the world will be a much better place. thebikingviking: useless-bulgariafacts: Dobri Dobrev passed away yesterday. He was 103 years of age. RIP Grandpa Dobri, you will be remembered. 1914-2018
Clothes, Money, and Old Man: See this old man? Here's why he is one
 of the best people in the world...
 This is 99 year old Dobri Dobrev, a man who lost most of his hearing in
 the second World War, has spent decades traveling 25 kilometers by
 foot every day, decked in his homemade clothes and leather shoes,
 from his village to the city of Sofia, Bulgaria, where he spends the day
 begging for money.

 Strangely enough, Dobrev isn't begging for himself
 He manages to live with an 80 euros pension (rougly 100 usd) a month.
 All the money that he has collected over the years (an estimated 40.000
 euros) have been donated by him to orphanages unable to pay their bills.

 He doesn't keep a cent of the money he receives.
 Everything is for the orphanages.
 Some call him "The saint of Baylovo", his place of birth.
 This year he will be 100 years old.

 ARS ParaHecilrioc
 A SP
 CAPHI CT
 IOCTHNCT
 YPABO
 BECENCT
 CCPMO
 HEHO
 6:Ba
 IPENANST
 borA
 TEHN
 WiseCT
 As one might expect, he is cherished by everybody. They call him
 Dyado Dobri (Grandpa Dobri) and he represents the good that can be
 done in the most selfless way possible.
 So, if you're in need of a role model, here's one. Just by being
 a little bit like him, the world will be a much better place.
thebikingviking:
useless-bulgariafacts:

Dobri Dobrev passed away yesterday. He was 103 years of age.
RIP Grandpa Dobri, you will be remembered.


1914-2018

thebikingviking: useless-bulgariafacts: Dobri Dobrev passed away yesterday. He was 103 years of age. RIP Grandpa Dobri, you will be remembe...

America, Black Lives Matter, and Butt: Molly Suzanna on Thursday When I was 19, I was driving home erratically, crying. I did a rolling stop through a red light. I was a mile away from my house. I got pulled over. There are wonderful police officers in the world. This wasn't one of them. He was of the psychotic variety, of which there are also quite a few. Demanded I sign the ticket. He was being scary. I didn't know, nor was I advised, that you can go to jail for not signing a ticket. Usually an officer just lets you go because you have to appear in court regardless of whether you sign it. When I said I didn't want to sign it (not understanding any of the aforementioned stuf), he demanded I get out of the car. My father died three days later; it's what l'd been crying about. I was 150 pounds soaking wet (at 6'2", that's pretty slight), halfway through a BA at a private school with a 4.0, and terrified to be on the side of the road in the dark with a very angry man whom I didn't know. Instead of getting out of the car, I locked the door. I was afraid. I didn't know better. He kept screaming at me to, "Stop f"ing crying! It would have been so easy to deescalate the entire situation He drug me out of the open car window and onto the ground. He kicked me in the ribs. He fractured my wrist cuffing me and picking me up by the link between the cuffs. He held his boot to the back of my head with my face on loose gravel, leaving what would later become scars. He bounced my head off the side of the car when he was putting me in, all while laughing. He called for backup and none of the other officers would touch me. One even said, on camera, "This is wrong, man. She ran a red light." I, understandably, was hysterical. Crying. Screaming. Huge bruises starting to form on my face and body. Clothing torn. High heel even broke off Do you know what I was arrested for and charged with that day? Resisting arrest. Can you imagine? Resisting arrest. Fast forward to the jail. I'd never been in trouble. Had no idea what to expect.I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't breathe. I told them he'd broken my wrist but they wouldn't believe me. They strapped me in a chair when I wouldn't calm down. Strap on your forehead. Strap on your chest. Strap on each arm and each leg. Like a beast. I remember begging for someone to scratch my nose, hysterically sobbing.I remember being in that chair for hours, topless, because l'd gotten "unruly" during the strip, cough, and squat procedure and refused to do it. So they ripped my shirt off and as I fought them, they put me in the chair. I tried to fight back against a female guard when she tried to rip my pants off. I didn't understand why I was there. I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't think I should have been arrested. I was livid. And loud Then they parked me. For five hours. In that chair. Strapped down. In front of a men's holding cell. I was literally losing my mind. It was a black man who, for five hours, while incarcerated himself, talked calmly and softly to me. Sang to me. Said every kind thing you could imagine. I finally stopped screaming and trying to head butt or kick anyone who passed. He said, "Stop, or they'll kill you. Just stop baby girl. It's ok. You'll be ok if you stop." He was an angel. Straight from God I didn't get to use the phone for a full 12 hours. No one on the planet knew where l was I was so crazy after being in that chair by the time they placed me in a holding cell that I began to bang my head off the cinderblock wall. They had to let me sit in the hall, on the ground, because l almost broke my own nose. I was muttering incoherently and rocking They mailed me a charge six months later saying they'd found a joint under the back seat of the bolted in police car and that it belonged to me. How do you hide a joint from an officer while cuffed with a broken wrist and get it underneath the bolted in backseat of a cop car? You don't. They offered me every plea in the book on the two charges, all the way down to a misdemeanor. I would not enter a plea. I went to trial on a felony. Because I knew my innocence. Because we had the money for a good attorney. Because the justice system wasn't already systemically stacked against me and my color and gender were in my favor, as my lawyer pointed out. During the trial they "lost" my videos. My attorney threatened the city with a lawsuit. The tapes magically appeared. My jury came back in four minutes with a not guilty verdict. They were crying after seeing the videos of my arrest and the videos from inside the jail, of me in that chair. My jurors all hugged me. They told me I should sue. My dad had just died. I was a college student. I was tired. The prosecutor dropped the resisting charge when I beat the possession rap; meaning I legally and literally should never have been arrested in the first place. How do you get arrested for resisting arrest? During my trial, my attorney asked him if he kicked me in the ribs repeatedly while I was already cuffed. He laughed and said, "Yes." My attorney asked, "Do you think this is funny?" He said, " do." A week later police in the same town shot an unarmed and senile very elderly black man in the face because he wouldn't come with them. There were no videos. There was no social media. You haven't heard about him. But he's dead. You won't hear his story. This arrest is still on my record. It doesn't prevent me from anything but I do have to explain felony charges when I get pulled over or apply for a job. I have never publicly told this story. tell it to you, today. And here's why: If I were a black man, I would be dead. Plain and simple. Pretty white girls don't get shot during wrongful arrests. Not any that I know of, and certainly not me. You can't deny white privilege and what it affords you. To deny it is to acknowledgeit exists, that you are privy to it. You don't see it because it exists for you. Something is very wrong in this country. There is a sickness. Black men (and sometimes women) are dying. They are being gunned down. For no discernible reason, and at an alarming rate, by white officers. blue-author: turakamu: lennybaby2: lanie-love09: micdotcom: This white woman’s shocking account of police brutality reveals the importance of the #BlackLivesMatter movement Molly Suzanna shared a story on Facebook that she had never told before: when she was 19, she ran a red light while crying, then was pulled over and forcefully removed and beaten by a police officer. She explains in the letter that she believes her situation would have been even worse had she been black — and she ends the letter with an important call to action. The public needs to hear more stories like this as well. Wow. This is horrifying. Cops are drunk on power. Add any ism to that, you have a bunch of abusive, gun wielding, trained to kill, non empathetic, killers running around. This woman got hauled out of a window, beaten, stripped, tortured, and humiliated, and she still is able to understand how white privilege saved her life.
America, Black Lives Matter, and Butt: Molly Suzanna
 on Thursday
 When I was 19, I was driving home erratically, crying. I did a rolling stop through a
 red light. I was a mile away from my house. I got pulled over. There are wonderful
 police officers in the world. This wasn't one of them. He was of the psychotic variety,
 of which there are also quite a few. Demanded I sign the ticket. He was being scary. I
 didn't know, nor was I advised, that you can go to jail for not signing a ticket. Usually
 an officer just lets you go because you have to appear in court regardless of whether
 you sign it. When I said I didn't want to sign it (not understanding any of the
 aforementioned stuf), he demanded I get out of the car. My father died three days
 later; it's what l'd been crying about. I was 150 pounds soaking wet (at 6'2", that's
 pretty slight), halfway through a BA at a private school with a 4.0, and terrified to be
 on the side of the road in the dark with a very angry man whom I didn't know. Instead
 of getting out of the car, I locked the door. I was afraid. I didn't know better.
 He kept screaming at me to, "Stop f"ing crying! It would have been so easy to
 deescalate the entire situation

 He drug me out of the open car window and onto the ground. He kicked me in the
 ribs. He fractured my wrist cuffing me and picking me up by the link between the
 cuffs. He held his boot to the back of my head with my face on loose gravel, leaving
 what would later become scars. He bounced my head off the side of the car when he
 was putting me in, all while laughing. He called for backup and none of the other
 officers would touch me. One even said, on camera, "This is wrong, man. She ran a
 red light." I, understandably, was hysterical. Crying. Screaming. Huge bruises
 starting to form on my face and body. Clothing torn. High heel even broke off
 Do you know what I was arrested for and charged with that day? Resisting arrest.
 Can you imagine? Resisting arrest.
 Fast forward to the jail. I'd never been in trouble. Had no idea what to expect.I
 couldn't stop crying. I couldn't breathe. I told them he'd broken my wrist but they
 wouldn't believe me. They strapped me in a chair when I wouldn't calm down. Strap
 on your forehead. Strap on your chest. Strap on each arm and each leg. Like a
 beast. I remember begging for someone to scratch my nose, hysterically sobbing.I
 remember being in that chair for hours, topless, because l'd gotten "unruly" during
 the strip, cough, and squat procedure and refused to do it. So they ripped my shirt off
 and as I fought them, they put me in the chair. I tried to fight back against a female
 guard when she tried to rip my pants off. I didn't understand why I was there. I didn't
 understand what was happening. I didn't think I should have been arrested. I was
 livid. And loud

 Then they parked me. For five hours. In that chair. Strapped down. In front of a
 men's holding cell. I was literally losing my mind. It was a black man who, for five
 hours, while incarcerated himself, talked calmly and softly to me. Sang to me. Said
 every kind thing you could imagine. I finally stopped screaming and trying to head
 butt or kick anyone who passed. He said, "Stop, or they'll kill you. Just stop baby girl.
 It's ok. You'll be ok if you stop." He was an angel. Straight from God
 I didn't get to use the phone for a full 12 hours. No one on the planet knew where l
 was
 I was so crazy after being in that chair by the time they placed me in a holding cell
 that I began to bang my head off the cinderblock wall. They had to let me sit in the
 hall, on the ground, because l almost broke my own nose. I was muttering
 incoherently and rocking
 They mailed me a charge six months later saying they'd found a joint under the back
 seat of the bolted in police car and that it belonged to me. How do you hide a joint
 from an officer while cuffed with a broken wrist and get it underneath the bolted in
 backseat of a cop car? You don't. They offered me every plea in the book on the two
 charges, all the way down to a misdemeanor. I would not enter a plea. I went to trial
 on a felony. Because I knew my innocence. Because we had the money for a good
 attorney. Because the justice system wasn't already systemically stacked against me
 and my color and gender were in my favor, as my lawyer pointed out.

 During the trial they "lost" my videos. My attorney threatened the city with a lawsuit.
 The tapes magically appeared. My jury came back in four minutes with a not guilty
 verdict. They were crying after seeing the videos of my arrest and the videos from
 inside the jail, of me in that chair. My jurors all hugged me. They told me I should
 sue. My dad had just died. I was a college student. I was tired. The prosecutor
 dropped the resisting charge when I beat the possession rap; meaning I legally and
 literally should never have been arrested in the first place. How do you get arrested
 for resisting arrest?
 During my trial, my attorney asked him if he kicked me in the ribs repeatedly while I
 was already cuffed. He laughed and said, "Yes." My attorney asked, "Do you think
 this is funny?" He said, " do."
 A week later police in the same town shot an unarmed and senile very elderly black
 man in the face because he wouldn't come with them. There were no videos. There
 was no social media. You haven't heard about him. But he's dead. You won't hear his
 story.
 This arrest is still on my record. It doesn't prevent me from anything but I do have to
 explain felony charges when I get pulled over or apply for a job.
 I have never publicly told this story.
 tell it to you, today.
 And here's why:
 If I were a black man, I would be dead. Plain and simple. Pretty white girls don't get
 shot during wrongful arrests. Not any that I know of, and certainly not me.

 You can't deny white privilege and what it affords you. To deny it is to acknowledgeit
 exists, that you are privy to it. You don't see it because it exists for you.
 Something is very wrong in this country. There is a sickness. Black men (and
 sometimes women) are dying. They are being gunned down. For no discernible
 reason, and at an alarming rate, by white officers.
blue-author:

turakamu:

lennybaby2:

lanie-love09:

micdotcom:

This white woman’s shocking account of police brutality reveals the importance of the #BlackLivesMatter movement
Molly Suzanna shared a story on Facebook that she had never told before: when she was 19, she ran a red light while crying, then was pulled over and forcefully removed and beaten by a police officer. She explains in the letter that she believes her situation would have been even worse had she been black — and she ends the letter with an important call to action.

The public needs to hear more stories like this as well.

Wow. This is horrifying.

Cops are drunk on power. Add any ism to that, you have a bunch of abusive, gun wielding, trained to kill, non empathetic, killers running around.  

This woman got hauled out of a window, beaten, stripped, tortured, and humiliated, and she still is able to understand how white privilege saved her life.

blue-author: turakamu: lennybaby2: lanie-love09: micdotcom: This white woman’s shocking account of police brutality reveals the importa...