Eye witness silliness

Is more proof needed than simple human hatred and the desire for vengence?

"Updated at 8:19 p.m.] The mother of the police officer that Davis was convicted of killing told CNN's Anderson Cooper that she is "absolutely devastated" that the execution has yet to happen.
“I’m absolutely devastated because I want it over with. ... They’ve been through the courts four times there in Georgia. They’ve been to the Supreme Court three times," Anneliese MacPhail said in an interview from her home, referring to previous delays. "This delay, again, is very upsetting and I think very unfair to us."
"I'd like to close this book," she said. "We feel (Davis is) guilty. The evidence and everything that we have seen – that I have seen , because I’ve been to all the trials – he is guilty, and I believe in that. And so does the rest of my family.”

Your heart is broken because a man who might be innocent is going to be murdered by the state that messed his trial up in the first place? You don't want vengeance, you want blood. And the blood of an innocent is just fine, because black blood is cheap.

The jury have retreated because the eye witness accounts are corrupted by all accounts. Corrupted by the police force your son worked for. Why wouldn't you want justice? Or do you just need closure? Humans are good at closure. If Mr. Davis ever gets out I don't think we have to look far for the lynch mob.

In honor of CPP

NFL fucken networke is a fuckine joke. 2 hours before the fuckin game and a room full of over paid has beens are analysing Chad Ochocinco's fucking TWitter stream? Michael Fuckin Irving looks like he's going to have a fucking heart attack roaring about Ochocincos fuckin TWEETS?

What a fuckin joke. No wonder no one gets shit anymore. Hundreds of thousands of zombies are watchng these assholes thinkning that this is entertainment. And these douchefucks are being paid millions o dollars to act like spoiled slightly inbred fucking morons.

I fucking despair. What hope that the gamewill be any fucking better?

Labour Day Mark 12

Today is my twelfth Labor Day, and my first as a Permanent Resident. I still have no idea what one does on Labor Day or, indeed, why it's so important. To Americans it marks the official end of summer and this has always struck me as odd because the weather (at least where I've lived over the last decade or so) is usually glorious and often 'better' than "real" summer (less humid, less hot).

The start of summer, Memorial Day (May), is marked with barbeques (cook-outs as we call them here), as is the Fourth of July, which includes the additional bonus of fireworks. Other holidays have associated phenomena - Martin Luther King Day (January) is a time of introspection and thought, doubly so here down South where the racial divide is still strong, and triply so in Memphis where Dr. King was murdered. (The site of his death, the Lorraine Motel, is now the National Civil Rights Museum and well worth a visit if you're in town.)

There are the pseudo-holidays of Columbus Day (celebrating men who refuse to stop and ask for directions) and President's Day (celebrating...uh, the President or something?). There's Thanksgiving, which to me is a chance to practice cooking a turkey in time for Christmas (my favourite holiday).

And there's Labor Day. A day off of work, but to do what? Some folks have one last hoorah at the beach (too far from here), or "one last" cookout (Tropical Storm Lee has put the kibosh on that in Memphis this year). It just seems a funny anti-climactic holiday.

But in the tradition of starting traditions where none exists, MusicGirl and I have decided there will a Labor Day breakfast and she will prepare it, just like Granddaddy Jim used to when she was a kid (Granddaddy Jim was Native American and she has fond memories of him smoking his cheroots and getting ash in the pancake batter, and then getting the batter in his long braided hair). So, this morning at the crack of dawn *ahem*...9:45...I headed out to The Store to get the makings for breakfast...and over an hour later returned with what I assumed was the correct makings. See, I don't "do"American breakfasts - when possible I make myself an "English" breakfast that most of my friends refuse to eat.

Ho hum...apparently 6 eggs was too few, 'center cut' bacon is wrong and it took me 35 fucking minutes to find the pancake mix - why isn't it with the rest of the cake mixes!? (And, yes we could make fresh, but we're still living out of boxes and some utensils etc. are missing). It took another 15 to find the maple syrup (why isn't it with the rest of the dressing, condiments, unguents etc.?)...and then 10 more  minutes of sorting through the 873 different varieties, all of which were proudly "sugar free" or "lite" before I found something 'real' ("lite" syrup, really? Irony spill on aisle 5).

Well, what the hell! This year traditions clash meet and we get Tideliar's catered variation of the Official Labor Day Breakfast!

At least some folks look like they're existed....Can haz catsup?

Federal Bureau of WHAT?!

Ah, there are few finer things than receiving mail. Well, to qualify, mail that isn't flyers or bills. A letter from home perhaps, a note from a loved one somewhere, reaching out to let you know that at that moment, that precise moment days or weeks ago, she was thinking of you and took the time and effort to write a card, a letter, a note - and then mail it.

This doesn't happen too much anymore because we communicate electronically. I can email my mom from my phone to tell her I love her anytime, why wait for a vacation or a major family event right?

For me, an immigrant to this wonderful, crazy country, most of the non-junk mail I receive is actually from the government. Citizens have little idea, although we likely share(d) the joy of the Federal refund check after tax time if we were lucky enough.

I am used to getting "official"mail referring to my visa, or my immigration status in some manner. Isn't it wonderful that the postal system exists where a transient email account might not guarantee delivery of a vital document - a travel permit, or for the lucky few, a work permit of some sort. Using this archaic 'technology' to communicate so vitally adds great import to important documents like these. That's something my country(wo)men will never know unless they too decide to explore the world outside their birth borders.

So, imagine my surprise/terror/delight/gut-gnawing-terror when I saw this in my mail box this afternoon...




(I am particularly taken by the "Have A Nice Day" motif.  Federal ANYTHING scares the crap out of me. It's something an immigrant can understand - after all, it's made clear, constantly, that we're second class citizens most of the time. Thankfully, I'm white and speak English, so it's OK. Unless I'm in Arizona and then my "funny" accent could get me in trouble...

You see, the United States Customs & Immigration Service (UCSIS, used to be INS) isn't so crass as to bully us with a FEDERAL stamp - they know we're already nervous. Why bully the bullied until you need to?

I wonder what's inside...I have a few friends who have Top Secret clearance, or are working to get Top Secret clearance, so maybe it's the one-in-a-hundred recommendation check? Or...?

On this Federally gifted Labor Day weekend I refuse to be bullied by my government. I'll update you next week when I get round to opening it...