Wow! Flake unloads both barrels at Republicans and the Goon in Chief…
Yet another Republican Senator can’t take the hypocrisy anymore.
Wow! Flake unloads both barrels at Republicans and the Goon in Chief…
Yet another Republican Senator can’t take the hypocrisy anymore.
Shortly after the shooting of Jordan Edwards by a Cop who fired his rifle into a car full of teens the police came out with two story lines…
There was alcohol (and drugs) at the party – That one was blown up by the fact that neither Edwards, or the three other passengers in the car had any traces of alcohol or drugs in their system.
That the car the boys were in was aggressively headed towards the police – Blown up by cell phone video of the incident that the teens were leaving the party, and driving away from police.
Now…Further evidence that the Party was a well managed, parent monitored affair, where there was nothing illegal going on.
A new report reveals that officers didn’t find any contraband before one of them fatally shot the 15-year-old.
There was never a reason for Jordan Edwards to be fatally shot by a police officer ― and a new report reveals that there was never even a reason for authorities to be at the party the teen was attending.
No teens were drinking or doing illicit drugs at a house party in suburban Dallas where Edwards, 15, was killed on April 29, a law enforcement official told the Dallas Morning News this week.
A newly released autopsy report also reveals that Edwards wasn’t under the influence when officer Roy Oliver shot him. The officer was responding to a reports that teens had been drinking at a party.
Oliver, 37, was fired and then charged with murder within a week of the shooting.
Initially, Balch Springs Police Chief Jonathan Haber said Oliver opened fire on the vehicle Edwards was sitting in because the driver was reversing aggressively toward him. Haber changed his tune after video evidence showed the car driving away from officers.
Oliver allegedly fired his rifle into the vehicle, striking Edwards once in the head. Edwards’ two brothers and two of his friends were in the car with him.
An unidentified law enforcement official told the Dallas Morning News that Oliver and another officer were inside the party just before the fatal encounter, and saw kids carrying energy drinks and sodas. They didn’t find any evidence of underage consumption, except for an empty beer bottle in a kitchen trash can.
“That was a condition of them attending the party,” Lee Merritt, the family’s attorney, told the paper. “If they saw anyone drinking, they had to leave.”
Hummmmm. Even if late, sometimes the light comes on.
I thought there was going to be a revolution in the party. I was wrong.
When I arrived in Tampa for my first-ever Republican National Convention in 2012, I was enchanted. I met Jeb Bush and attended a panel on education and school choice. Kevin Johnson, the Democratic mayor of Sacramento, spoke alongside Bush, who talked about how his educational policies in Florida were focused on helping minorities find quality education, regardless of Zip code. There I was, listening to this bipartisan conversation focused on helping poor youths empower themselves and excel. There were no dog whistles and no racial innuendo, just good genuine policy focused on giving those in need a hand up. Exhilarating!
I was a proud African American who had voted for, donated to and supported Republicans in elections past, and now I was going to be part of a revolution in the GOP. The party of Lincoln finally reached out to people who looked like me.
It has never been easy being a black conservative. I was frustrated by how Democrats never seemed to have to earn African American votes but instead hid behind accusations of racism to hold the loyalty of people of color. And my views often made me feel ostracized. Like many African American conservatives, I sometimes approached social gatherings with other minorities with dread — I always tried to steer clear of politics, knowing that the conversation would veer to adulation for the first African American president and how I was “selling out.” But my first convention made me forget all of that for once.
The convention made me feel good about becoming more involved with the party, even though there was some ugliness simmering beneath the surface. An African American camerawoman was attacked with racial slurs, but I thought that was just an outlier. Later, I had to move on from Mitt Romney’s stereotype-laced postelection conference call, in which he said that minorities did not support him because they wanted gifts. The leadership of the party was slow to address racial strife in Ferguson, Mo.; West Baltimore, Hempstead, Tex.; Sanford, Fla., and many other places — even making excuses such as media overhype and race-baiting.
I wrote it off as the need for more diversity in the party. I even found myself defending voter suppression laws in states throughout the South since we needed to ensure “the integrity of the vote,” even if that meant doing it on the backs of those with fewer resources.
I mentally discarded other incidents until Donald Trump walked down that escalator and declared his candidacy for president. When he attacked Hispanics, it sent a chill down my spine. If he feels that way about them, how does he feel about me? I thought.
The intensity of my excitement in 2012 was replaced with a sobering disappointment for 2016. Trump’s desire to appeal to the so-called alt-right wing was troubling. His slowness to disavow the KKK was eye-popping. His insistence that more “law and order” is needed to address poor relationships between police and African American communities was sickening. His clumsy and ill-informed “outreach” to African Americans — which assumed we all lived in poverty, squalor and government dependence — was more insulting than uplifting. His decision to leverage African American apologists as surrogates such as Ben Carson and Mark Burns showed he was out of touch with the African American community and unwilling to change.
The 2016 Republican National Convention in Cleveland was a much different experience than Tampa. Against my better judgment, I attended, much less naive than four years before. The timing was critical — we were just a few weeks removed from the police killings in Dallas and the death of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge. The nation was stirred by the violence and unrest. Cooler heads needed to prevail. The first-day convention speakers did the opposite. Milwaukee County Sheriff David Clarke praised those who acquitted the officers in the Freddie Gray case and blasted the Black Lives Matter movement with very little compassion for the pain felt by so many when unarmed African Americans are killed by those in authority. Speakers after him followed suit.
Unlike 2012, this time I noticed I was a stark minority in a sea of white. I hadn’t been conscious of it before — it had not even mattered. All of the sudden, I felt like an outsider.
Part of my original attraction to the party was my conviction in my beliefs and how I thought those beliefs aligned with the party. I believe that society’s problems cannot be solved by simply growing government. I believe that government should be a steward of public money and resources, not wield them for personal political power. I believe that local government should be where the most power lies so citizens can more easily hold officials accountable. I believe that everyone should be able to worship the God they believe in, however they want to. I believe in the power of the free market. I do not believe in equal rewards, but I do believe in equal opportunity, regardless of Zip code. And my heart also bleeds when another unarmed African American is shot dead in the streets by police and politicians cover it up or leverage it for gain.
But today’s GOP, the party of Trump, of voter suppression and of religious and racial intolerance, does not represent those beliefs.
In my opinion, there are two types of African American Republicans. The first group is not sensitive to the distinct needs of the African American community or understands those needs but for selfish reasons puts them second to gain favor and not “rock the boat” within the party. The second group gets it and wants the party to change. They try tirelessly because they love this country, are devoted to what they believe in and want this party to be viable for African Americans.
For those in the first group I described, I hope for you that the Trump presidency delivers happiness. I have a hard time seeing how it could for the rest of us sensitive to our communities, but your priorities may lie elsewhere.
To those in the other group — the ones that get it — keep up the fight. You are better than me. I can no longer consider myself associated with this party that supported such a man and such an indifferent campaign.
I truly struggle to understand my place in this new Republican reality, where insensitivity and callousness replace the “better angels of our nature” (to quote the great Abraham Lincoln). And the reward for this approach? A wave that propelled Trump to the White House and Republican control of Congress.
Why bother? It is hard to see how my vision for the party could ever come to be if the opposite of that vision yields such fruit.
The Chump has become so toxic, even cast-iron stomached conservatives are beginning to flee. They are looking at a Party apocalypse, and it is scaring the hell out of them.
Hillary Clinton is “gonna be president unless Republicans change their nominee.”
Conservative talk radio host Hugh Hewitt said on Wednesday that the Republican National Committee should ask Donald Trump to withdraw his candidacy or change the convention rules to prevent his formal nomination.
“The Republican National Committee needs to step in and step up and talk to him about getting out of the race,” Hewitt said on the Hugh Hewitt Show.
The alternative, he said, is a guaranteed victory for presumptive Democratic presidential nominee Hillary Clinton — and the loss of Republican control of both houses of Congress.
“She’s gonna be president unless Republicans change their nominee,” Hewitt said. “When the dust clears we will have lost the House, we will have lost the Senate, we will have lost governorships.”
Hewitt discussed the prospect of changing the Republican national convention rules to prevent the pledged delegates from voting Trump in on the first ballot.
“The Republican National Committee can do one thing: they can change the rules to make the first two ballots advisory,” Hewitt said.
He also suggested making the first ballot require a supermajority of votes.
“Make the delegates own it. If you are gonna commit suicide and someone is giving you a gun, don’t blame the gun, don’t blame the guy or the gal who gave you the gun — blame yourself,” he concluded.
This is a video of he National Convention of he Libertarian Party. The guy who starts speaking was running to be the Party Chairman.
Watched the film discussed here last night on PBS. It was by far the most level headed and fair treatment of the Black Panther Party I have ever seen. Here is an interview of the producer of the film…
At the end of the film, they discuss the mass incarceration of the Panther members in an attempt by the Government to destroy them…It didn’t. 50 years later some of those surviving Panthers are still incarcerated. BLM can learn a lot of lessons from the experiences of the BPP.
It’s early on the Monday morning, post-snowmaggedon 2016, and I have an unexpected 10 minutes to spare. I know I should close my eyes, center myself for the day ahead, but instead I FaceTime Baba Sekou Odinga. I don’t really have anything to say. Mostly I just pick on him, tell bad jokes, make faces, sing off-key. “Why you do that to that man,” the homie Everton who has been navigating me through the storm all weekend, asks, laughing.
And as soon he asks, it’s like I slip through a wrinkle in time, back 14 months to November 25th, 2014 when, after near 34 years in prison, more than half of which was spent in solitary confinement, former Black Panther, Sekou Odinga, walked out of a New York State prison into the loving arms his children and his wife, Dequi. Nine hours later, he would be greeted in Harlem at the National Black Theater by over 200 people who had found out 48 hours before that a day we had worked for but did not know we would ever see, was here: Sekou, one of nearly 100 American political prisoners, activists from 1960s through the 1980s, was free.
Soffiyah Elijah, executive director of the Correctional Association, former deputy director of the Criminal Justice Institute at Harvard Law School (HLS), and one of the attorneys who has worked diligently for years on political prisoner cases, including the Herculean effort to secure parole for Sekou Odinga, wrote:
Political prisoners are men and women who have been incarcerated for their political views and actions. They have consciously fought against social injustice, colonialism and/or imperialism and have been incarcerated as a result of their political commitments. Even while in prison, these men and women continue to adhere to their principles.
This, Elijah writes, is the internationally accepted definition of political prisoners, and most of us rightly associate it with people like Nelson Mandela. What we don’t generally jump to, is that apartheid was the progeny of Jim Crow, and the struggle against apartheid was deeply informed by the struggle against Jim Crow and for human rights for Black people living in America. In short, what we believe is deserved for people living in other countries, we don’t always appreciate should apply to us. We should.
Indeed, as I write this, many of metrics that quantify what makes a life quality–fair employment, decent education, affordable housing and meaningful health care–are as disrupted today as they were for Black South Africans during apartheid and African Americans pre-Civil Rights Movement. In other words, the name-calling leveled against the Black Panthers, resurrected recently because of imagery in Queen Bey’s Formation, was ahistorical (read: a outright fucking lie). The Panthers were a human rights organization and as we know given the history of the slave patrols, the three branches of the US government, the KKK and today’s police forces from Ferguson to Baltimore, from LA to New York, any organization or person calling for the full human rights of Black people has been met with, um, resistance.
Which is why it’s infuriating to hear some people argue that the Rapture or some shit has come because the Obamas look mighty fine and Oprah has a network where you can experience Tyler Perry’s imagination to your heart’s content, no disrespect. I mean, rock on and whatnot but let’s understand at least this: elevating the exception to the rule to the level of the rule itself doesn’t make for sound reasoning–anymore than toxic water poured down the throats of Black people by a governor who probably washes his ass with bottles of Voss or Black people getting dead every 28 hours by police, is progress just because we can hashtag it.
Two generations ago, the man who was born under a Gemini sun in 1944 and raised up in Queens, New York in a world where poverty in Black communities left children hungry and hurting, and where killer cops regularly cut #BlackLivesShort with impunity, Sekou Odinga was inspired to revolution by Minister Malcolm X. He would hang around Malcolm’s organization, the OAAU (the Organization of African American Unity) but didn’t officially become a member until after Minister Malcolm was assassinated. Roughly 18 months later, on October 15, 1966, two young men who were also inspired by Minister Malcolm, Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale, would stand on the steps of the Alameda County Courthouse in Oakland, California and announce the birth of The Black Panther Party and its 10-point program that demanded human rights for all Black people. Two years after that, Seale traveled to New York to get things kicked off in the City that Stays Woke, and talked that good Let’s Get Free talk to group of young brothers and sisters who’d gathered in an apartment in the East Village where Sekou Odinga was in the mix.
When I tell Sekou I am writing this piece he says, “Tell them how we just wanted our people to be safe. Tell them how we fed our children. Tell them how we opened the first-ever free health clinic in America and that it was in the Bronx. Tell them we stood with mothers who were being harassed at welfare offices. And yes, tell them we fought police, but tell them we did it to defend ourselves because what we, a bunch of 20-year-old kids did, exposed what the government with billions of dollars refused to do. And they couldn’t take that. Ultimately, that’s what made us political prisoners. That’s why we were targeted. That’s why we were killed.”
In fact, in FBI documents on the Party, the government noted that far more dangerous than any gun brandished by a Panther, was the fact that they fed children.
But in the Black Panther Party, Sekou, like thousands of young people across the country, found a place where he could lean in–elbows, shoulders and back–on the question of how we were going to finally demand and realize our human rights. It was a seminal moment in the long Black history of Black people giving no more fucks because then, like now, our lives were at risk simply by walking outside and say, not having taken a dog to the vet in 1967 or buying a bag of skittles for our little brother in 2012. And despite all the variance in stories I’ve heard about the Panthers since I was an undergrad in the late 80s and early 90s majoring in political science and Black studies, in the more than quarter century I’ve known Sekou, it seems that to a person, everyone agreed that he was kind of stand-up, straight-backed soldier you’d want on your side.
Which is why, I suppose the decision was made that he be the one to walk into Clinton Prison in New Jersey on November 2nd, 1979. And six years and six months to the day that unarmed/hands up Assata Shakur, was shot and arrested on the New Jersey Turnpike, Sekou would enter that dungeon, take his friend and comrade by her hand, and walk her the fuck out that joint….Read the Rest Here…
Heard about this. Unfortunately was too busy to deal with the drill. A couple of my staff who are foodies did. Sounds like it was a blast!
White people are crazy.
Let me rephrase: People who dress entirely in white—from head to toe—and schlep white tablecloths, white chairs, and white plates and napkins to the middle of a city to eat cold food with thousands of strangers, also dressed entirely in white, and who pay for this form of social masochism, are crazy.
I reached this conclusion weeks before I donned a pair of white linen drawstring pants, a white Guayabera shirt, and a pair of white espadrilles (which look good on no man) to join 2,000 strangers for Diner en Blanc, the foodie flash-mob franchise that rolled into Washington on Saturday night.
I was a guest, but my fellow diners (“dinerers”?) had paid upwards of $100 per couple to join this culinary club.
The Washington event sold out weeks earlier. Weeks!
The attendees were told to meet in groups at pre-assigned locations around the city.
Many of them had taken the Metro from the hinterlands of the D.C. suburbs. They flocked like little white lemmings, hiking their hemlines up from the dirty street corners, and waited patiently until 6 p.m.
Only then were they informed of the soirée’s secret locale, and they set out en masse.
I’d been tipped off to the venue early.
I stood outside the Carnegie Library in downtown Washington, just across from the city’s convention center, and watched streams of crisply dressed revelers, looking very hungry, hauling folded tables and chairs, linens, and baskets towards the library’s handsome lawn.
Some carried their gear in Rubbermaid bins strapped to luggage carts. Plenty towed roll-aboard suitcases filled with cutlery and cold salads. One woman pushed her supplies in a wheelchair.
Again, I reminded myself, people had paid for this privilege. Why? Washington is lousy with public parks and open green spaces. Did these revelers require instruction to enjoy themselves? When did they become allergic to spontaneity?
The city has been transformed over the past two decades into an urban consumer playground that can accommodate both the very wealthy who can afford to live there and the multitudes that come to shop, to eat, and—apparently, as “Diner” proved—to commune with total strangers.
The evening’s attendees had religiously adhered to the Diner en Blanc International-enforced dress code, helpfully emailed to patrons a few days prior. “Wear White. Please no ivory, cream, off white, a dress with a black belt, light khaki pants, or any other color.”
I realized my espadrilles were ecru and became anxious at the thought of a “Diner” enforcer confronting me with an ultimatum: Either the espadrilles went or I did. I wasn’t sure which outcome I’d prefer.
“Dress Elegantly or Very Elegantly,” the email said. Dangerous advice. More than a few women wore wedding dresses. Mens’ white jackets flirted with Zoot suitterritory. I did spot one man in a cream dinner jacket. I guessed he’d made it past the color guards.
“Very Elegant” also meant guests could wear a “mask, gloves, wig, or fascinator.”
For inspiration, guests were encouraged to consider Marie Antoinette, and to feel free to imitate her, provided that their wigs were “original” and of “high-quality” and, perhaps it went without saying, but it was said, “white.”
Washington is rather late to this white social craze. Diner en Blanc began nearly 30 years ago in Paris when, the story goes, a group of friends met up for a picnic in the Bois de Boulogne, a large public park on the western edge of Paris, and wore white so they could find each other.
I put aside for the moment why friends would fail to identify each other without dressing like Mr. Roarke from Fantasy Island. Perhaps they weren’t very good friends.
In any event, the founders clearly tapped into some thwarted social longing.
Thousands of people had been waiting to join this white army. The concept became contagion, and ‘Diner’ has now spread to Paris, Barcelona, Buenos Aires, Abidjan, Cape Town, Canberra, Auckland, Vilnius, Moscow, Shanghai, Singapore, Mexico City, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Philadelphia, and now Washington. ...Read the rest here…
Geez – I imagine that the Republican strategist types are having nightmares right now. It is beginning to look like Republicans are going to have to settle for getting about as much of the Hispanic vote, as they get of the Black vote. Which isn’t much.
…The Univision News Poll, conducted by the independent research firm Bendixen & Amandi International with the Tarrance Group, shows that 7 in 10 Hispanic registered voters say they have an unfavorable impression of the New York businessman. Nine in 10 Hispanics say they have heard about Trump’s comments and, when read specific remarks, nearly 8 in 10 say they find them offensive…
Trump’s low ratings in the Univision poll closely reflect results from a recent Washington Post-ABC News poll, which found 81 percent of Hispanics giving an unfavorable rating…
Hispanics remain an overwhelmingly Democratic voting bloc, according to the new survey by Univision. Asked to identify themselves by party, just 16 percent of Hispanic voters describe themselves as Republicans, compared with 58 percent who say they are Democrats and 26 percent who say they are independent. Roughly 2 in 3 Hispanics say they have a favorable impression of the Democratic Party while a slight majority say they have an unfavorable impression of the Republican Party…
Six in 10 Hispanics say the Democratic Party’s overall position on immigration is in line with their own, while only 20 percent cite the GOP. The issue of the path to citizenship could provide motivation for some Hispanic voters in 2016. A slight majority (54 percent) say they are more likely to back a candidate who supports a path to citizenship or legal status.
Hispanic voters are also more aligned with Obama’s overture to Cuba and the effort to normalize relations than with widespread Republican opposition to the moves. Overall, 46 percent of Hispanics say the Cuba issue will not factor into their voting decision in 2016. But by a 2-1 margin, the others say they are more likely to support a candidate who favors normalization of relations.
The Univision poll was conducted June 12 to 25 among 1,400 Hispanic voters interviewed on conventional and cellular telephones.
The following is from PEW Research and describes the battleground before Trump. If the Hispanic vote moves from 73% in 2014 for Obama to 85% for the next Democrat candidate…
It’s all over but the whining.
30 years later and folks are still “discovering” Go-Go, a music style developed in Washington DC. Sorry about the ad in the beginning. Danced away many a night to this at one or more of DC’s “Cabarets”.
Vodpod videos no longer available.
Republicans are hyped about the typical minority party gaining seats in a mid-term election. They believe if they shout and squeal enough, the base will get energized enough to gain some seats…
Two problems with that:
That extremism thing, the most recent evidence of which was threatening letters sent to 30 Governors…
And the loss of Mainstream Republicans.
What we got here is a major meltdown.
Republicans are shouting and spitting like a bunch of fucking hyenas as they clamor for face time in the media. They’re filling our inboxes, vandalizing our social networking profiles and polluting the airwaves with venomous messages rebuking the Obama Administration over health care. HEALTH CARE! My fellow Republicans are tearing this nation apart over providing medical care for those less fortunate. Not bank bailouts, war, or wasteful pork spending— Health care. Really?
The behavior among elected Republicans and the dimwitted TV pundits who are whipping America into an absolute frenzy is the worst thing about this bill and has led me to question my long-standing affiliation with the Republican Party. For a moment, I thought it was me; that maybe I had changed and lost touch with Republicanism. So, in seeking to refresh my recollection of what this party stands for, I logged onto the GOP home page.
What I found was as pathetic as it was cartoonish. A complete embarrassment. The site opens to a fiery red screen with Nancy Pelosi, fists and teeth clenched in a fit of rage against a backdrop of flames, with the words “Fire Pelosi” in bold letters emblazoned on the screen. This buffoonery doesn’t torch Nancy Pelosi—it’s Theodore Roosevelt, Dwight D. Eisenhower and Abraham Lincoln who are torched by the flames of dissent and hatred that now embody this once-great party.
Going deeper in the site only serves to highlight the confusion within the GOP. It lists the accomplishments of the Republican Party since its inception and its own core values of today. It proudly claims responsibility for freeing the slaves, establishing Howard University and outlawing the Ku Klux Klan. It touts Republican leadership in writing the 19th Amendment, passing two civil rights acts and ending racial segregation in Little Rock. The list spans two centuries of achievements such as these and others that today seem more in alignment with the Democratic Party, like establishing Yellowstone National Park, building the federal highway system and authoring welfare reform.
This is the party I belong to.
But the current “platform”—if you can call it that—lists only six ideals. The power of the individual, voluntary giving, limited government, low taxes, less regulation and national strength. That’s what it says, but what it practices is hate, because hate sells when the chips are down. Well, here’s the newsflash: The strong Republican individual who enjoyed low taxes, limited government and less regulation didn’t voluntarily give a hand to the 32 million people under eight years of Bush Jr., four under Bush Sr. and eight under Reagan. And the eight under Clinton? We Republicans killed health care then too. So, no. The “voluntary giving” portion of the agenda hasn’t worked.
This bill is what we get for not doing something sooner. Now the Republican Party is calling for true health care reform and vowing to still kill this bill? NOW? Too bad, so sad. Too little, too late. Everything that is wrong with this bill is the fault of every loser in office with an (R) next to his or her name.
From the realm of beyond ridiculous comes the conservative movement. The growing number of so-called “Tea Party” activists are hunting their own, outing those they call Republicans In Name Only, or “RINOs.” They have taken their vituperative agenda to the streets, hurling racial epithets at democratic lawmakers and preaching angry messages to Fox’s ravenous cameras. Television ratings and voter ire are feeding off one another and creating a vortex of hatred that has gone viral and beyond.
There is nothing grand about this old party that preys only on the enmity of the populous. There is nothing admirable or principled about fear mongering. Where are the inspired solutions that made this party great?
I’m calling it. I hereby officially pronounce the Republican Party dead. The GOP died suddenly on March 23, 2010 from a diseased mind and heart. It was 154 years old. The son of Ronald Reagan, grandson of Theodore Roosevelt and great-grandson of Abraham Lincoln is survived only by bastard stepchildren who have squandered the family fortune and sullied its good name.
A plague on all of your tents, I say. I renounce my allegiance to those who cloak themselves in the shroud of Republicanism without understanding what it means to be so. I stand firmly by the glorious list of accomplishments from which these whores have divorced themselves and await the day a new breed of Republicans rediscovers the true meaning behind the core values of this party. Until then you have lost my vote of confidence and, more importantly, my vote. When you do return to your collective senses and stand for something other than hatred and dissent, I will be there, because a real elephant never forgets.