If there’s anything I’ve learned in my years on the Interwebz, it’s that the Internet loves outrage! Outrage goes beyond the old media adage, “If it bleeds, it leads.” Outrage gives people purpose, notoriety, and attention. It’s virtue signalling that provides the veneer of caring for the victim, or helps paint the outraged themselves into a victim. Outrage is everywhere, because it sounds more urgent and interesting than plain anger.
Witness the Trigglypuff phenomenon. That’s what outrage gets you nowadays, no matter how ludicrous. Worldwide attention, some sympathy, and notoriety.
During the past year, we’ve seen outrage at cops. Riots. Black Lives Matter protests against police officers. And yes, even murders. The perpetually outraged have denied police officers service in restaurants and stores, tainted their food, and treated them like pariahs.
Are there bad cops? Yeah. There are criminal cops. There are negligent cops. There are cops who don’t give a shit. There are cops who are paranoid and incompetent. There are cops who are racist as well – just like in any other profession.
There are also police officers who have dedicated their lives to protecting and serving and to working to make their cities and neighborhoods safe for peaceable citizens. They put on a uniform, leave families behind every single day, and go to work knowing full well that they may not return. They kiss their loved ones “goodbye,” with the full understanding that it may be the last time they do so. They could be your neighbors. They could be your friends. They could be your family members.
Many times there is more than one side to one story, and opportunistic swine who seek to manufacture outrage to draw attention to themselves or their causes tend to take advantage of their bully pulpit, their access to social media, their microphones – real and metaphorical – to foment contempt, to pit the populace against police, to arouse rage and foster animosity between the “victims” and those they perceive to be in power.
This sounds like one of those cases.
Dad Pens Harrowing Facebook Post After Cop Points Gun at His 7-year-old!
Yes, it certainly does sound harrowing and outrageous. How could a police officer threaten to shoot a father and his child who were guilty of nothing more than traveling home on vacation! The father details the frightening tale in a lengthy Facebook post in which he recounts how this “particularly aggressive” officer tapped on the rear passenger side window with his pistol, scaring his child, how he wouldn’t listen when the concerned dad tried to explain they were in a rental car and were just coming back from vacation, how he “leered at me down the barrel of his pistol” and pointed his pistol at the child threatening to shoot her, how he threatened to “murder” him.
And of course, there’s the usual “I love you all. I’m thinking of suing.” conclusion.
It certainly does sound like the police officer overreacted, but I did want to see what the other side had to say. It’s only fair to objectively take a look at both sides of the story.
It does appear correct that the officer stopped the vehicle. The license plate on the vehicle had been reported as stolen, and the car rental company had not replaced the vehicle plates when the front plate was reported stolen.
The officer also reports that the dad – identified as Kenneth Walton – “was not responding to officer’s commands while seated in his vehicle so the trooper moved up the passenger-side window and got the occupant’s attention by tapping on the window with his hand. It was at this time the trooper realized there was a child in the car as she sat up into view. Mr. Walton was ordered out of the car and detained in handcuffs while the trooper conducted his investigation.”
I can see why he ordered Walton out of the car. Last thing you want is for anything to escalate in close quarters when there’s a child in the back seat. It made sense to immobilize the potential criminal while you figure out what the hell is going on.
Especially during a high risk stop, in a high-trafficked area!
Yes, it does appear the officer was being risk-averse until he concluded his investigation of the situation, and he probably was aggressive and more than a bit frightened, given that it was night time, and the stop took place on a road known for drug trafficking and other shit. That said, once he concluded that the vehicle wasn’t stolen, that the rental company simply forgot to replace the plates, he released Walton, who by all accounts was cooperative.
“AZ DPS understands and sympathizes with the concerns the family has regarding this situation,” says Captain Ezekiel Zesiger, Flagstaff District Commander. “Anytime a police contact is made for a possibly stolen vehicle our troopers are trained to take all necessary precautions. In this instance, the vehicle’s license plate was reported as stolen. Troopers must adhere to their training in regards to conducting a high risk traffic stop in these types of situations. Training and protocols are in place for the safety of the Trooper as well as the safety of citizens. Fortunately, the subject in this case was compliant with the trooper and the situation ended peacefully with no one being harmed.”
It was a tense situation for all involved. Both the officer and Walton, I’m sure, were nervous – both with good reason. Other officers were at the scene, and by Walton’s own admission, were comforting his daughter while the investigation was going on. Of course, she was nervous! There were bright lights and a bunch of nervous police officers. It was dark, and her father was nervous.
But all’s well that ends well. Walton got the name and badge number of the officer, as well as the name of his supervisor. He admits the entire ordeal lasted only a few minutes until the mystery of the stolen license plate was solved. And once released, he was on his way to the rest of his vacation.
Shitty situation, to be sure, but ultimately resolved peaceably.
But Walton is apparently one of those opportunists who can’t let a situation go without using it to advance his cause.
The first thing he does is screech that his story NEEDS TO BE SHARED! SHARE IT! NOW!
Second, he recounts the story, and inserts a bit of his own editorializing – assessments that have no basis in fact.
He was in the back of the car, detained and immobilized, and he personally heard the dispatcher tell the police officer that the man he had in the back of his vehicle was not a suspect. He was released after that revelation.
And yet, he claims to know the state of mind of the officer, whom he assesses to have been out of control.
He admits in another post that he “relied on my daughter’s recollection of the officer knocking on the window with his weapon. If it was his wedding ring, it was very loud. It caught me by surprise and I turned to see the gun just inches from her window, so it appeared he’d used it to rap on the window, but my daughter’s recollection could be wrong. I’m not sure if this part really matters.”
So the claim that the officer “pointed the gun” at his child was based on the recollection of a terrified 7-year-old, and he believed it, because the officer knocked really loudly! Got it.
He also claims that the only reason he’s still alive is because he’s a white guy.
I realized it was very possible that the only reason I was alive was because I am a scrawny 48-year-old white man wearing a Micky Mouse t-shirt and cargo shorts and hiking boots. The officer that arrested me was so pumped up on adrenaline and eager to get a “bad guy” that he could barely control himself, and if I’d looked just a little bit more threatening to him – because I was black, or young, or long-haired, or tattooed, or didn’t speak English – I believe he might have pulled the trigger.
I guess Walton is a mind reader? A psychiatrist?
No. Definitely not a shrink or a psychic. But he is a criminal and a thief, who apparently is looking to cash in on the outrage he manufactured.
On April 28, 2000 he posted an auction on eBay for an oil painting that attracted a closing bid of US$135,805 and which bidders speculated might be a work by Richard Diebenkorn due to its resemblance to the artist’s work, the existence of the monogram “RD52” on the canvas, and the fact that the seller claimed to have found it at a garage sale in Berkeley, California, where Diebenkorn had lived. In the description accompanying the auction, Walton seemed to have no knowledge of art and claimed to have no idea of the painting’s value. The auction generated international headlines and, after a series of investigative reports by Judith H. Dobrzynski in the New York Times revealed that Walton was in fact an experienced art seller who had sold several forged paintings and worked with other sellers who bid on each other’s items, Walton was banned from eBay, and the FBI launched an investigation into his trading activities.
He’s already asking people on social media to help him research the disposition of a civil rights violation case.
He’s got thousands of BLM supporters egging him on in the original post, propping up their own agenda with hackneyed BLM shibboleths. After all, if you don’t wallow in your own white privilege, you won’t get nearly as much support, now will you?
Everything about this screams “OPPORTUNISTIC SWINE TRYING TO PROFIT FROM A SUIT!”
Let’s hope the justice system gives Walton the finger for manufacturing outrage, using his daughter’s fear, and the BLM movement agitprop and stirring shit up in an environment where relations between the races and between the police and citizens are already wrought with tension.
There was a dust-up a couple of days ago, because some NBC dick weasel sportscaster was forced to apologize publicly for suggesting that Olympic superstar Simone Biles’ adopted parents weren’t really her parents.
Ron and Nellie Biles adopted Simone and her younger sister, Adria, in 2001. The girls had spent time in foster care as Shanon Biles, their biological mother and Ron’s daughter, struggled with drugs and alcohol.
[Al] Trautwig referred to Ron and Nellie as Biles’ grandparents on Sunday’s NBC primetime broadcast. When a woman tweeted Trautwig to say that he should call them her parents, he tweeted: “They may be mom and dad but they are NOT her parents.”
For those of you who don’t know, Daniel is my biological son, but Sarah is adopted. She and her sister came to live with us after my now-deceased junkie half-brother and his wife gave them up. Things were not easy – especially with the older child. There was counseling, tears, terror, malnutrition and neglect that needed to be addressed. I’m not telling you this because I somehow am demanding credit for my struggles.
Sarah turned out to be an incredible person! She’s bright, kind, determined, intelligent, honorable, and intent on bettering herself. She’s a US Marine. She’s a pillar of strength and integrity, and she loves her family. I couldn’t be prouder to be her mom if I actually gave birth to her myself! (Actually, I’m glad I didn’t. She was kind of a chubster as a baby! *joking!*)
Sarah started calling me “Mom” when she was about 8 years old. Her sister, on the other hand, alternated between “mom,” “bitch,” and “my dad’s kid sister.” (I’m OK with it. I did the best I could with that one.) Not once did I think Sarah was any different from Daniel as far as my children were concerned. Not once did I consider her any less my child! She was mine. I raised her. I loved and cared for her. She is just as much my kid as Daniel.
And frankly, while I don’t get upset at much – I’m certainly not a perpetually offended snowflake – this is one issue that really grates on me. Adoptive parents open their hearts. They don’t have to love a child. They choose to. It doesn’t matter that the child doesn’t have our biology, our heart embraces them just the same.
Shitting out a kid isn’t enough. They’re not just some parasite that falls out of you to be allowed to grow like a weed on their own. They are human beings who deserve nurture, guidance, care, comfort, and love. They deserve to have someone wipe their tears when they hurt, kiss their boo-boos, praise them when they succeed, hold their hand when they need support, read with them, teach them the right path, and prepare them for the life they have ahead.
That’s what makes a parent. It’s not just squirting your DNA into a woman and winding up with a little hungry human 40 weeks later. It’s everything that comes with it, and by refusing to acknowledge this simple fact, Trautwig slapped Biles’ parents in the face. He slapped her in the face. And he spat in the face of every parent who opened his or her heart to a child to whom they did not give birth.
NBC – after a backlash on social media – had Trautwig delete his tweet and issue an apology. I just hope didn’t taint Simone Biles’ shining moment. She’s incredible!
The op-ed is entitled, “I know Assault Weapons and You Shouldn’t Have One.”
My first reaction is, “Eat a dick. If you claim that, you don’t know what an assault weapon is.”
He claims to be a veteran who experienced “first-hand combat” in Vietnam.”
My first reaction is, “Then, perhaps you should know what an assault weapon actually is, but you don’t.”
I am calling on veterans who have served in active combat – lived and almost died depending on the assault weapon strapped to your body – to speak out. We are the people who have true insight on this issue. Without wealth and connections to keep a deferment, I was drafted and in active combat for a year in Vietnam from Nov. 1967 to Nov. 1968. During the Tet offensive in Jan. ’68, some of the worst fighting in the war, I was frequently in first-hand combat along the Mekong River and through the rice paddies in the delta radioing coordinates for artillery firepower.
Much like the “violence planner,” who took an oath to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, this cock-gobbler knows exactly dick about the Constitution, but much like the “violence manager,” he uses his alleged combat experience to gain credibility on a subject he obviously knows little to nothing about, despite his spurious claim.
“I was drafted to fight in Vietnam” doesn’t make him an expert. It makes him someone who had to be forced into military duty. Dick.
Assault weapons are just that: for assault. They are not for the general public to play at target practice or use for sport. They are too dangerous. The general public is not trained sufficiently nor mentally strategic enough to understand their raw power. They should be in the hands of only the military and tactical, highly trained law enforcement.
Hey, walking twat! This is Shyanne Roberts. She the daughter of my friend Dan Roberts and a competitive shooter. Last year, this adorable child helped build the custom AR she is shooting in this photo. She was 10 years old at the time. She also knows the difference between a semi-automatic rifle and the fully automatic one you used in Vietnam.
Perhaps it’s time for you and Gersh KUNTZman to compare manginas.
Disagree with me? If you’re a veteran and served in active combat with an assault weapon, I value your opinion – even if it differs from mine. If you’re simply a gun enthusiast who believes it’s your inalienable right to play with assault weapons, I don’t value it because you really don’t understand the consequences – you haven’t witnessed them. If that’s who you are and what you want, join the military and be useful with that.
So the very people of whom the military consists, and whose rights they are sworn to defend don’t count in your book, because you got forced into military service and now consider yourself an “expert?”
This veteran says “Eat a dick.”
I believe in the Second Amendment. I own a gun. I have a concealed carry permit just in case I need it – not to carry routinely. What’s the old saying … if you carry around a hammer, you’re always looking for a nail?
What you do and don’t believe is irrelevant. The Second Amendment exists, regardless of whether you believe it does, and it speaks plain English, regardless of whether or not your stupid ass can understand it.
I also understand the Second Amendment’s purpose when it was written and the state of weaponry when it was created. It’s called perspective – useful when you’re forming opinions and making decisions.
Oh, another one who apparently doesn’t believe that the Internet, computers, and even typewriters are covered by the First Amendment. When you write this ignorant screed with a quill on parchment, given the state of writing technology when the First Amendment was written, I might listen to you (but probably not, because you’re stupid). Until then, eat a dick.
I call out our N.C. senators in Washington who consistently vote against stricter background checks, reinstating the assault weapons ban, and not preventing people on the terrorist watch list from buying guns. I’m amazed that politicians like Thom Tillis accept immense amounts of NRA donations and think we don’t understand that compromises the way he votes. I may not have gotten a college degree because I was fighting a war, but I’m smart enough to figure that out.
So, he has no respect for pretty much any amendment in the Bill of Rights, except, of course, the one that protects his right to be stupid. Due process? Who needs it! Right to keep and bear arms? Fuck it. Right of the people? Don’t care and don’t understand it.
Difference between full auto and semi-automatic rifle? Doesn’t know it, or doesn’t care.
What would you expect for someone who was forced into service and then uses said experience to try and relieve others of their rights?
In other words, John Butler, eat a dick.
Want a gun? Take a bullet, says a blubbering, irrational pig named D. Watkins in a sputtering, badly-written indictment of gun owners as “cowards” if they refuse to take a bullet to feel the pain of those who have been shot.
“So if you love guns, if they make you feel safe, if you hold and cuddle with them at night, then you need to be shot. You need to feel a bullet rip through your flesh, and if you survive and enjoy the feeling––then the right to bear arms will be all yours.” Says D. Watkins from the safety of whatever lair he uses to write his barely literate garbage. This keyboard commando calls you a coward if you want to exercise your basic right without experiencing his violent fantasies of seeing his fellow Americans savaged by violence.
Doing a little research on this noxious tool, I discover he’s a Baltimore-based former drug dealer who decided to become a writer… apparently by lying about his alleged poverty in order to gain street cred with the victim class. According to his bio, he was the winner of Baltimore magazine’s “Best Writer” award in 2015. With gems such as this, “You need to have gun, like taking selfies with pistols, can’t live with out [sic] it? Then take a bullet and you will be granted the right to purchase the firearm of your choice,” and “recommending that fire arms [sic] be present in elementary classrooms,” and the visionary, profound, butchered English in this, “Bullets are extremely hot and they hurt. I saw them paralyze, cut through faces, pierce children and take life. I have friends, relatives and loved ones be gunned down [sic],” you can certainly see the “merit” of giving this barely literate hack such an honor.
Why is it that pusillanimous, lying colostomy bags of fetid crap such as Dwight here want to disarm you? Projection, I gather. They have violent snuff fantasies, and they project those onto everyone else, fearing that the rest of us are just as violent as he is.
I won’t bother debunking the lies he quotes, such as Hillary Clinton’s “90 people killed by guns daily” lie. I’ve done it already.
But Miguel over at the Gun-Free Zone blogged about it this morning, and that gave me an idea. Miguel wrote:
Dear D. Watkins: If you happen to have a fire extinguisher, I wanna see your self-inflicted burn scars. Otherwise, stop talking nonsense out of your rectal exit.
PS: You can’t have sex unless you pass a bowling ball through the above-mentioned rectal exit. A man should not be allowed to have carnal knowledge with a woman until he experiences the pain of childbirth… without epidural.
Prior to sex, you should probably be raped too. And if you like the experience of your body and your soul being decimated by forcible penetration, you can then proceed to get some nookie. But only if your partner says “yes” every ten minutes. (Does “Oh, God!” count? Asking for a friend.)
So what other right can you not exercise until you experience its worst conclusion?
You cannot drive a car until you’ve been crushed in a vehicle collision, your bones shattered by tons of steel at high velocity. (h/t Brad Torgersen on Facebook)
You absolutely cannot be allowed to be a writer or reporter until you have experienced libelous statements about you and your family. Libel tears apart people’s lives. In some cases, those who have been libeled actually end their lives. It’s only fair that any “journalist” be required to endure lies published about them, reporters at their doorstep, hounding them around the clock, the pain of trying to restore your life and reputation…
Prior to purchasing a knife – regardless of its intended use – you must be stabbed. If you enjoy the feeling of your flesh being carved up and blood spurting out of your body, go ahead and buy that implement. Same goes for hammers and baseball bats, as well as other types of clubs, since they’re used more in murders than rifles are.
Want to buy a pool? You should be waterboarded to emulate drowning. Do you have any idea how many innocent children drown, you selfish, arrogant, cowardly turd?
Want to smoke that cigarette? Perhaps you should be put through some chemotherapy, lose your hair and puke daily, and if you like that, then buy that next pack of Newports and second hand smoke me to death!
Want that steak and those cheese fries? Let’s induce a heart attack, so you can see what it feels like to suffer your body revolting against you as you clog your arteries with crap. Heart disease kills more Americans than anything else and costs us $320 billion, so go get that arugula salad and quit contributing to health care costs in this country.
And after you’ve done all that, learn the definition of “rights,” and learn to use English properly, you moron.
September 11 was a historic day in America. It was tragic. It was emotional. It was dark. But it was definitely historic – a painful part of American history that is never to be forgotten.
Enter this asshole. OH NOES! Teh EEEVIL NRA™ put a GUN on display in its museum! A GUN! How awful!
New York Police Officer Walker Weaver did not survive that horrific day on Sept. 11, 2001, but the NRA is pleased that his gun was recovered.
The NRA writes, “Officer Weaver never made it out that day … but his revolver was recovered from the ashes.”
Let’s start with the fact that the pistol is a bit of history. There are cameras that survived the 9-11 attack that belonged to a photographer – Bill Biggart – who did not, that are displayed at the Newseum in Washington, DC. Why? Because it’s a NEWS museum, and therefore, tools that a photojournalist used to capture the news are prominently displayed there as part of news history.
Likewise, the NRA’s museum is a FIREARMS museum. The pistol that belonged to a fallen officer who died on 9-11 is part of history! Therefore, it’s perfectly appropriate that the tool the officer used every day to protect his life and the lives of others is prominently on display there as part of firearms and American history.
Yay for the gun! #GunsLivesMatter.
Yay for lack of rational perspective! #HoplophobicBuffoon.
After Weaver’s family donated the gun to the NRA National Firearms Museum and with the 14th anniversary of the September 11 attacks, the NRA writes, “Weaver’s revolver holds a place of honor today and serves as a somber reminder of the law enforcement officers who put their lives on the line daily.”
I don’t know where any of you were during the bombings, but I was one or so miles from Ground Zero, just hoping that one gun would survive as we watched in horror as citizens and first responders tirelessly dug through the rubble, day after day.
So you’re using your alleged presence near Ground Zero to give yourself credibility? Well, I was pretty near the Pentagon – where 125 military and civilians died at the hands of psychotic murderers. And some of those folks even carry guns as part of their jobs… you know… in the military, you cretinous coward! In the military – especially when we deploy – we carry our firearms with us all the time. They are tools.
This look familiar? Care to make fun of it, you deplorable, callous cunt?
These weapons are part of our jobs – especially on deployment. Just as Officer Weaver’s pistol was part of his job – and the only part left his family was able to recover. So your smarmy, oleaginous sarcasm is neither warranted, nor appreciated.
With each dig into the ground, we hoped to see just one barrel peering out into the sunlight.
With each word you show yourself to be a pompous, insensitive nitwit, that has not a gracious bone in its body. This is the only thing his family had left of him in the wreckage of that horror – the tool he used every day to protect himself and others. And you have the unmitigated gall to wax sarcastic about it?
And one did. It was Officer Walker Weaver’s gun. He didn’t make it but the NRA is very happy that yet another gun is OK.
I’m sure Officer Weaver’s family is gratified that they are able to donate the only thing left of him they were able to recover from the rubble to a museum to honor the the man who courageously bore that tool on the job and preserve it as part of history – history you apparently do not understand or respect, you sniveling cock monkey.
The courageous gun lobbyist organization used social media yesterday to attack surviving family members of gun violence.
And by “attack,” you mean “asked a legitimate question about the #whateverittakes movement and its intent toward our rights.”
We’re sure the gun rights group was relieved to hear that the guns used in the aforementioned acts of violence survived, too.
We’re sure relieved that your pusillanimous pantshittery against guns is so profound, that you would denigrate the only item that was recovered from someone who was murdered by psychotic terrorists and begrudge that tool becoming part of history merely because you insist on personifying an inanimate object.
Forget the thousands of lives lost 14 years ago, and let’s take a moment to honor the gun that pulled through such a terrifying event.
Forget the fact that the gun is the only item that was recovered from one of those victims. Let’s hate on it, because GUNS!
And now, I’m going to go throw up.
Translation: Look how sensitive I am! I’m going to throw up because INANIMATE OBJECT! I sarcastically attack the memory of one of the victims of a vicious terrorist attack on our nation, but I’m righteous, because I’m attacking a GUN!
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