Menacing Sparrow

These are some of the internets.

14,034 notes

clatterbane:

piss-waif:

nawyougood:

codelens:

Enforcement Officials Beat & Kidnap a 12-yo Black Girl in Front of her Residence, Claiming She Was a Prostitute
"When her mother and father came outside after hearing her cries for help she was desperately holding a tree with one arm while plainclothes officers were beating her in the head, neck and throat.
Dymond Milburn, now 20-years-old, was an honor student attending advanced classes at Austin Middle School, when her life would be forever scarred by Galveston police.”
None of the enforcement officials who terrorized and beat Milburn were penalized.

smh….

officers were beating her in the head, neck and throat.
they were literally trying to kill her. this is a little girl. what the fuck.

Even better:After hung jury, girl won’t be retried in police assault case (2009)http://m.chron.com/news/houston-texas/article/After-hung-jury-girl-won-t-be-retried-in-police-1601070.php
"Five of the six jurors refused to vote to convict Milburn of felony assault, said defense attorney Anthony Griffin and Assistant District Attorney Veronique Cantrell-Avloes.
An earlier attempt to try the case also ended in a mistrial after a witness made an improper statement in front of the jury.”
They tried to beat a young girl’s head in, and then charged her with felony assault on one of the officers. And there was at least one asshole juror who wanted to convict her at a retrial.

What in the living fuck is going on?

clatterbane:

piss-waif:

nawyougood:

codelens:

Enforcement Officials Beat & Kidnap a 12-yo Black Girl in Front of her Residence, Claiming She Was a Prostitute

"When her mother and father came outside after hearing her cries for help she was desperately holding a tree with one arm while plainclothes officers were beating her in the head, neck and throat.

Dymond Milburn, now 20-years-old, was an honor student attending advanced classes at Austin Middle School, when her life would be forever scarred by Galveston police.”

None of the enforcement officials who terrorized and beat Milburn were penalized.

smh….

officers were beating her in the head, neck and throat.

they were literally trying to kill her. this is a little girl. what the fuck.

Even better:
After hung jury, girl won’t be retried in police assault case (2009)
http://m.chron.com/news/houston-texas/article/After-hung-jury-girl-won-t-be-retried-in-police-1601070.php

"Five of the six jurors refused to vote to convict Milburn of felony assault, said defense attorney Anthony Griffin and Assistant District Attorney Veronique Cantrell-Avloes.

An earlier attempt to try the case also ended in a mistrial after a witness made an improper statement in front of the jury.”

They tried to beat a young girl’s head in, and then charged her with felony assault on one of the officers. And there was at least one asshole juror who wanted to convict her at a retrial.

What in the living fuck is going on?

(Source: thefreethoughtproject.com, via afro-dykey)

0 notes

keep it simple, stupid

"Try not to be too clever for your own good"

I really like this, and found the sentiment of “keeping your idea to a single sentence” ideal for strategy for marketing and planning. 

So many times strategy is so full of jargon and amped up bullshit (see my favourite site about social media strategy) that the idea doesn’t make sense. 

To me, the key is a simple strategy and then detailed tactics on how you’re going to pull it off. 

Filed under marketing strategy

0 notes

practicing writing - a short story

So I’m taking a writing class and thought what the hell, and share something that I wrote. Feedback welcome, just be gentle please. :) 

Flip Phone

I went to the store, and was just going to pick up some quick things for the weekend:  instant noodles, a carton of milk, a gossip magazine, and a lotto ticket. The line was predictably long, as I live beside a busy corner store. The lady who worked the evening shift, she was nice but she liked liked to talk. As much as I find it annoying when I’m in a hurry, this weekend I was in anything but a hurry. When it was finally my turn, she looked at me and assessed my purchases and exhaled disappointedly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, expectantly, not entirely in disagreement with her inferred judgment of my life.

 “Girl, I don’t need a degree in anything to tell me that something is wrong with your life. Look at you: eating broke-ass noodles, reading a garbage magazine, and throwing away your last few bucks on a scratch-and-win?”

 I looked at my feet in shame, my face heating up half from irritation and half from the pain of the truth.

 “Whatcha gonna do, am I right?” I said, hoping to appease her and just get on with my pathetic evening.

“Nope. Not today sweetheart. What’s your name?”

 “Liz.  Look, I have to go, so you know…”

 “Liz. Why don’t you go by Liza, or Beth or Elizabeth? Those are much prettier names – more elegant. Names that might get you ahead in life.”

 I wondered what the hell she knew about elegance, looking over her stained beige hoodie and over-stretched yoga pants.

“Elizabeth, I would like permission to change your life tonight. Will you grant me that permission?”

I fidgeted, partially because of the growing line behind me and partially because of the sting of having your life assessed by a middle-aged convenience store cashier.

 “Ok, but I really have to go.”

 “Elizabeth, take this cell phone. Answer it when it rings. That’s all I ask. That’s all it will take to change your life forever.”

 I took the worn out flip-style phone she gave me, the milk, my gossip magazine, and my instant noodles, and walked out of the store. I crossed the street and walked up the two-flights of stairs into my apartment, petting Casey the cat as I absent-mindedly looked at the worn out phone. No apps, no saved numbers, no text messages. Just a bunch of incoming calls.

 I started to worry – what had that crazy woman gotten me into? Probably her son or brother or boyfriend or whoever was bad news. What if she got me into a prostitution ring? What if the phone would ring and I was expected to be an escort or something?

“Old flip phones – aren’t those what drug dealers use?” I thought to myself. Or heck, maybe it’s an audition line, and a budding director could be calling at any moment, to offer an audition. I wondered if I’d ever mentioned the acting classes while making small take with the cashier.

I started pacing up and down my little hallway, on the one hand fretting about what the convenience store lady got me into, and on the other hand, imagining what exciting life might be waiting for me on the other end of the call.  She had promised a change. I just needed to be ready.

I stayed up late, waiting, worrying, dreaming about what might be. At 3:15am, the first call came in.

 The next afternoon, bleary-eyed and bedraggled, I walked into the corner store. I’d been there twice already, looking for the cashier who’d given me the phone. It was finally Carla’s shift – that’s what I’d learned – that the woman’s name was Carla.

 I pushed to the front of the line, eyes accusing and angry. “This phone – this fucking phone wouldn’t stop ringing all night. It started at three in the morning and rang straight through – they think I’m going to deliver their pizzas. What the hell were you doing, giving me this phone saying you were going to change my life?”

 Clara started laughing. “Oh honey, that’s priceless. That’s the best one yet. That phone is just some piece of shit I pulled from lost and found. “

I didn’t understand. “You told me – no you promised me – it was going to change my life. I took this phone and it kept me up all night. First with the worrying what you got me into, and then with the non-stop calls”

 “Why didn’t you turn it off, if it was ringing all night?” 

“Well you said” I trailed off, her ego bruised for not doing the obvious. “You said you were going to change my life. I was waiting for the right call”.

“Well bless your heart. Your gullible little heart. Honey, night shifts are boring – sometimes I make things up or act mystical to spice up my night. You won’t believe the number of you people who actually buy it. What the hell would I know? I work overnights for minimum wage. You think if there were a life I could change, it wouldn’t be mine? Now buy something or move on – I’ve got a line building”. 

Filed under stories short story sketch writing