i don’t understand a single sentence in this and i’m ok with that
I haven’t stopped saying “it’s called quantum jumping, babe”
I would genuinely like to know who to blame for making these children so disconnected from the concept of imagination that they think the simpler explanation for what they’re doing is that they’re projecting their consciousness into one of infinite realities where fictional characters are real.
The Beatles: 0/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts
Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink
Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like
Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it
The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to
Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury
Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams
The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few
U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band
Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”
Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot
Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music
Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location
Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes
The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho
Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago
Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used
Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho
The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location
The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate
Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.
Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go
Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green
The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band
KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes
The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me
We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable
They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants
The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two
Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit
The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not
The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring
Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic
Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that
Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar
Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew
Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole
Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that
Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go
The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate
Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long
Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking
The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit
Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head
Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful
Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden
Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out
Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk
The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list
Absolutely vital information to have if you live where the waters freeze over.
I especially appreciate this guy’s commitment to actually showing the steps himself. That cold-shock response is a bitch and willingly subjecting himself to it couldn’t have been fun.
I don’t live anywhere near water like this, but I am still memorizing this knowledge because:
* I might use it in a story someday.
* Any knowledge that staves off the dying is good knowledge.
Some kids passed away today in my region from falling in icy water, so thought it was important to boost.
George’s coworker begins sending memos wherein every number is accompanied by some parenthetical factoid or statistic. He finds it unusual but informative, and feels as though the references give him a better understanding of the figures involved. Soon, other memos from other coworkers appear with similar definitions, not just for numbers but for words. Eventually, every memo reads like a postmodernist list of encyclopedic associations, and he can’t even discern what the original intents of any of the messages actually are.
Kramer is baffled to find that eggs no longer come in dozens [from the old form of the French word douzaine, meaning “a group of twelve"], but in elevens instead, in strange, trapezoidal [from Greek τραπέζιον (trapézion), literally “a little table"] cartons with staggered rows. He asks one of the store’s employees about it, but they claim that eggs have only ever come in elevens [the 5th smallest prime number]. As he progresses through the store, he finds that other items seem to come in groups of one fewer than expected: five-packs of beer, seven-packs of hot dog buns, nine-packs of hot dogs, three-packs of toilet paper rolls. Alarmed, he drops his eggs and runs out of the store, only to find that it seems later in the day than expected. He checks his watch, but there are only eleven hours on the dial. “But that doesn’t make sense,“ he mutters. “That’s two less hours in the day!” His realization seems to set off a chain reaction, as groupings of like items begin decreasing before his very eyes. Windows disappear from buildings. Parking meters become rapidly less expensive. Branches disappear from trees. He looks down at his hands to find two fingers and a thumb [from Proto-Indo-European tum, meaning “swelling", a primary characteristic among primates] on each one. Horrified, he runs as fast as he can to Jerry’s.
A handful of people follow Jerry home from a show. He tries to shake them, ducking into alleyways and shopping centers, but instead of losing them, others seem to join in the pursuit. Eventually he finds himself followed by three thousand people [≈ population of Falkland Islands, nation].
Kramer arrives, stumbling, and grabs Jerry by the collar as best as he can with the sole fingers remaining on each of his hands. “Thank God I found you, Jerry!” he wails, struggling to speak clearly with only one tooth left in his mouth.
“Thank God I found you,” says Jerry. He turns to gesture at the crowd of people trailing behind him, but there is now only one man left from the original group, standing on the only street left in Manhattan [originally settled in the year 1, it is the only borough of New York City, with a population of 2]. Jerry and Kramer enter the only building, through its only door, and go into the only apartment inside, where they share the only bed. “Goodnight,“ sputters Kramer to himself as he shuts off the only light left in the world with his lone remaining arm [the only limb on the human body].
Everyone we’re making a friend group. So everyone else’s mutuals will meet Me and My mutuals. Tag your mutuals! It will be like 1 big family of dumbshits! >:3
I’m a cis man sure but i also wanna opt out of the gender binary. None of that shit is my fault or my responsibility and i don’t want any part of it
Believing the gender binary is stupid horseshit doesn’t require me to change my gender actually
Yeaheyah you get it. Not trans but i believe in their beliefs. Sometimes i remember people form gender complexes around what alcoholic beverages or colors they like and i just wonder how they’re not fucking exhausted from keeping up this stupid fucking horseshit. Just do whatever you want forever
@nimagine i know u reblogged this from me but ur so correct 🙏 get peer reviewed
Ok but seriously wtf. Why is it both. It shouldn’t be both. These are two completely different meanings. That’s so dumb. Like I’d get it if the meanings were closer or something but wtf.
If I say in having a bimonthly club meeting that could mean anything. You, the listener, are forced to ask twice a month or every other month. It’s the definition of useless. Like everyone’s like “oh defenestrate is so useless lmao” but at least it means something? If people are confused, they get confused on definition, not usage. Whereas anyone who is above the age of 13 can look at bimonthly and think about it and come to two meanings that are possible but are very different. AND GUESS WHAT BOTH ARE TRUE.
Usually I love the English language. I think it is a language that has a lot of use and is very maliable. Sorta like a Swiss army knife. BUT THIS… this is so dumb.
randomly remembered “i have d cups, grandpa. the waitress thinks you have dementia” tonight so i decided to find the original tweet again and
[ID: A Tweet and self-reply by Twitter user Akira.
The original Tweet says “At a certain magnitude of cunt severity, getting misgendered by your family stops hurting and starts being funny. I have D cups, Grandpa. The waitress thinks you have dementia.”
The reply reads: “UPDATE: she was right”. End ID]
So, one thing I’d like to note here is
One of the lesser known early symptoms of dementia is that people start being more disagreeable.
Part of this is probably the natural result of being increasingly confused and upset day to day constantly. Another possible thing is that the same mechanism that causes dementia is also attacking the part of the brain that does emotional regulation.
And the thing is this is super early stage. By the time they stop remembering when’s the last time you met, it’s already way too late. But if an older person in your life starts acting way more like a cunt for literally no reason, and it’s not particularly in character for them, it really might be worth testing for dementia or Alzheimer’s because you have a lot more options catching it earlier.
this is a good argument for not being an asshole: people will notice sooner if you get more argumentative.
Seriously the way your grandparents bought a house for 10k in the 50’s and now it’s worth more than a quarter mil on the low end it’s just absolutely fucking stupid
We need more scary infinite variants of manmade environments like the Infinite IKEA or the Backrooms.
May I suggest, The Lot:
I’m sorry to disappoint you but this is a real parking lot. I didn’t edit it.
Check out the lot-to-building ratio in any large American sports stadium
Some lots are so big they have bus services specifially inside it. The lots are broken into sections and buses go around to their sections at a set amount of times before the start of something and drive people to the main building.
The societies of lost people inside The Lot would probably operate something like that to locate and pick up new arrivals and bring them over to one of the major settlements.
In the Infinite Ikea or Backrooms you can convince yourself there’s gonna be a door round the next corner or behind that wall.
But despite it being completely open, there is no hope of escape from The Lot. Whereever you look it’s just more cars from horizon to horizon.
Sheesh, man, that’s
a lot
Any artists interested in illustrating some The Lot concept art? Things like
A new arrival realizing a they’re lost
Scavengers systematically going through cars for supplies
A small farming community that dug up the asphalt to plant crops
A veteran traveler coming across two sun-bleached skeletons wearing old-timey clothes next to some old cars, implying they’ve been there for more than a century
How Eldritch do we want this location to be?
More ideas:
Agriculture is impossible; all the food available is truck-stop fare, scavenged from cars. A group of people had the idea to dig up the asphalt to find dirt to grow crops, but the top layer is just laid down on top of a layer of an older kind of hardtop. At one point a group of people excavate a pit several meters deep, uncovering progressive layers of asphalt, concrete, tile, brick, cobblestone, etc. but they never reach dirt.
Since all food is scavenged from cars, groups have to stay on the move. Although, if you want, you could have unobserved cars reset according to some occult criteria, enabling cyclical migratory patterns. Or, if you want, you could have them have to keep moving outwards and hope they don’t cross a patch that’s already been cleared by someone else.
Any foods that actually contain any appreciable amount of fiber become the most treasured kind of food, as everyone gets constipated from eating only the most refined and processed of foods for every meal.
Part of the uncanny feeling of the place is that it is perfectly flat. It’s not immediately obvious because the only things you can climb to get a better view are lampposts, but there’s no curvature to the earth in this place. A cult forms around disassembling cars to build a tower to try and see to the edge. It’s unclear what’s going on with the sun, given there’s still a day/night cycle.
There are plenty of cars to shelter in, but the geomorphology of this place would lead to incredible windstorms at dusk and dawn, with a very still, hot midday, and a bitterly cold night.
As tempting as it might be to populate the space with some kind of intelligent threat (I’ve seen predatory planes and shadow monsters in the notes) I feel like the concept is better served by having the environment itself be the threat.
Maybe there’s never enough drinkable water; it’s mostly soda in the cars; most of the foods available are either very salty or full of sugar. After enough time in The Lot, everyone inevitably ends up pre-diabetic and chronically dehydrated.
Maybe we kick up the weather: black asphalt can get fucking hot at midday; hot enough to fry an egg if the sun is bright enough. Besides sitting in the cars (which may or may not be feasible depending on whether or not they can provide air conditioning), shade is in very short supply, and the abundant reflective surfaces of the cars means you’re gonna get sunburned, bad, if you don’t figure out what to do about noontime.
Conversely, blacktop radiates heat extremely quickly once the sun goes down, and with no plants or rivers to provide humidity the temperatures at night could easily get below freezing.
Flat topology also encourages cyclonic winds; regular, fully fledged tornadoes, flinging cars about and ripping people off their feet could be an actual serious concern.
Write it up like one of those 18th century Adventure Journals. “Day 127: the Swede has scurvy; Johnson’s foot continues to degrade; I would sell my soul for a bran muffin. Thought I saw a bird but it was a hallucination. Tornado at dusk again; we lost the Turk to a falling sedan. I miss waffles.”
Every now and then the inhabitants stumble across a muddy pickup truck, and it’s like finding the Holy Grail because they’re able to chip off the sun-dried dirt for agriculture. It’s slow, a few cups per truck which themselves are few and far between, but given enough time they scrounge enough for a shoebox sized garden of peas and bean sprouts. One guy found half of a dessicated hamburger in a bag of garbage on the floor of a car, and the tomato still had some seeds in it. No clue if they’re still viable, but once they save up a player’s worth of dirt they can try them out. The truck dirt is sterile from being baked for so long, but it’s nothing a little “night soil” can’t fix.
I forgot independent TV can do whatever the fuck they want. I just watched an episode of Game Changer where one of the contestants was high on marijuana (is it high when it’s marijuana? i don’t know drug terminology) and kept taking hits (is it hits for marijuana?) on camera throughout the game.
He won.
He did it again and ended the game with half the points of everyone else so
a few people have replied stuff to the effect of “damn this looks cool but i don’t know anything about Doom” and that is officially my cue to start nerding out about it
This is the Doomguy. Demons call him “The Doom Slayer,” but everyone who loves him calls him Doomguy.
Once upon a time, Doomguy was a security guard working for the Union Aerospace Corporation. He was stationed on a remote space base on the Martian moon Phobos. He used to be in the Marine Corps, but he was dishonorably discharged after his CO ordered him to fire on unarmed civilians and he responded by putting his CO in a full-body cast. He spent most of his time as a security guard jerking off to porn on the clock, according to the original game’s manual.
One day, his bosses at the UAC fucked up super bad when experimenting with teleporters and opened a portal to Hell. Demons quickly swarmed the base, possessed Doomguy’s fellow security officers, and started taking everything over. Doomguy thought that wasn’t very cash money of the demons, grabbed a shotgun, and started asking them politely yet firmly to leave.
Doomguy does this on Phobos for a bit, dies, finds himself on the Martian moon of Deimos which had been swallowed in to Hell itself, and gets right back to fighting demons. He rappels down from Deimos in to the depths of Hell, kills more demons, and then escapes through a portal in Hell to Earth.
When on Earth, Doomguy discovers that the demons killed his pet rabbit Daisy. This motivates him to power through a bunch of extremely difficult levels designed by American McGee, a bunch of really shittyrushedambitious levels designed by Sandy Petersen, three expansion packs designed by fans, a short jog through some levels designed by Nerve Software, and an entire game that was exclusive to the Nintendo 64. During these games he kills a lot of demons, saves humanity, stops the demonic invasion of Earth, and resolves to stay in Hell for the rest of eternity to make sure this never happens again.
And… he does that. He spends eons traveling between Hell and parallel dimensions, putting a stop to demonic invasions across the multiverse. He does this for so long that the demons canonize him as a part of their weird demonic religious belief system, dubbing him The Doom Slayer. The demons chronicle Doomguy’s rampage in a collection of stories called The Slayer’s Testament. He meets an order of alien knights in Hell called the Night Sentinels, whose own home world was pulled in to Hell by the demons and who had become just as effective at killing demons as he had. He pals around with them for a bit but eventually the demons get the better of them all and all that’s left is the Doomguy. This pisses him off really bad, so badly that when he went on his latest rampage he didn’t notice that the demons were leading him in to a trap. The demons drop an entire temple on his head, knock him unconscious, and lock him in a sarcophagus.
An undisclosed amount of time passes, and eventually the UAC from an alternate universe busts in to Hell by accident again. The UAC starts pulling natural resources and artifacts from Hell and using those resources to power all of their technology. Turns out, using Hell Energy to power your electronics makes people go crazy, and eventually this turns in to another full-on demonic invasion. This is where DOOM (2016) starts, with the Doomguy waking up from his nap in a UAC lab where they had been studying his sarcophagus. Doomguy realizes that he’s in a “same shit different universe” situation and gets to work stopping the demonic invasion and angrily ignoring the input of every single person that tries to talk to him. He’s seen all this shit before countless times and is sick of hearing excuses and monologues. He’s through with the niceties of it all. Characters tell him to “carefully deactivate” all of the different science machines that let humanity safely use Hell Energy. He smashes them to bits with his feet. Characters assure him that this was all for the “greater good,” he knows that the greatest possible good for humanity is not fucking with Hell anymore. They don’t know what they’re messing with, he does, and he has to fix the problem in his own special way.
The clip above is from Doom Eternal, set to release March of next year. The clip of Doomguy casually strolling through his UAC base and just sort of asserting himself is the result of the character having experienced several thousand years of this bullshit and being just So Through with it all. He’s not gonna hurt these people because ultimately he’s fighting to protect humanity, but as far as he’s concerned he doesn’t owe anyone in this scenario the luxury of his politeness or respect.
The demons are coming from a portal at the core of Mars? What a coincidence, he’s on one of the Martian moons and there’s a gun designed to blow up planets right outside. There’s also a bunch of demons outside, so that’s gonna need to be addressed. This guy has a key to the door out? Sweet. He’s just gonna borrow that right quick. That guy has a plasma rifle? Doomguy always liked that one. It belongs to him now. Time to go outside and hit things until the industrial metal stops playing.
I forgot independent TV can do whatever the fuck they want. I just watched an episode of Game Changer where one of the contestants was high on marijuana (is it high when it’s marijuana? i don’t know drug terminology) and kept taking hits (is it hits for marijuana?) on camera throughout the game.
He won.
He did it again and ended the game with half the points of everyone else so
bad video game idea > guy standing infront of mirror > you walk by mirror, don't see yourself in it > guy moves > mirror image doesn't > he was just looking at an image of himself
George’s coworker begins sending memos wherein every number is accompanied by some parenthetical factoid or statistic. He finds it unusual but informative, and feels as though the references give him a better understanding of the figures involved. Soon, other memos from other coworkers appear with similar definitions, not just for numbers but for words. Eventually, every memo reads like a postmodernist list of encyclopedic associations, and he can’t even discern what the original intents of any of the messages actually are.
Kramer is baffled to find that eggs no longer come in dozens [from the old form of the French word douzaine, meaning “a group of twelve"], but in elevens instead, in strange, trapezoidal [from Greek τραπέζιον (trapézion), literally “a little table"] cartons with staggered rows. He asks one of the store’s employees about it, but they claim that eggs have only ever come in elevens [the 5th smallest prime number]. As he progresses through the store, he finds that other items seem to come in groups of one fewer than expected: five-packs of beer, seven-packs of hot dog buns, nine-packs of hot dogs, three-packs of toilet paper rolls. Alarmed, he drops his eggs and runs out of the store, only to find that it seems later in the day than expected. He checks his watch, but there are only eleven hours on the dial. “But that doesn’t make sense,“ he mutters. “That’s two less hours in the day!” His realization seems to set off a chain reaction, as groupings of like items begin decreasing before his very eyes. Windows disappear from buildings. Parking meters become rapidly less expensive. Branches disappear from trees. He looks down at his hands to find two fingers and a thumb [from Proto-Indo-European tum, meaning “swelling", a primary characteristic among primates] on each one. Horrified, he runs as fast as he can to Jerry’s.
A handful of people follow Jerry home from a show. He tries to shake them, ducking into alleyways and shopping centers, but instead of losing them, others seem to join in the pursuit. Eventually he finds himself followed by three thousand people [≈ population of Falkland Islands, nation].
Kramer arrives, stumbling, and grabs Jerry by the collar as best as he can with the sole fingers remaining on each of his hands. “Thank God I found you, Jerry!” he wails, struggling to speak clearly with only one tooth left in his mouth.
“Thank God I found you,” says Jerry. He turns to gesture at the crowd of people trailing behind him, but there is now only one man left from the original group, standing on the only street left in Manhattan [originally settled in the year 1, it is the only borough of New York City, with a population of 2]. Jerry and Kramer enter the only building, through its only door, and go into the only apartment inside, where they share the only bed. “Goodnight,“ sputters Kramer to himself as he shuts off the only light left in the world with his lone remaining arm [the only limb on the human body].
One of the most important things I learned in my Language and the Law class is that law enforcement will intentionally misinterpret every type of statement asking for a lawyer as not asking for a lawyer. Even directly saying it like this “I will not speak to you without a lawyer” can be taken as a simple statement of fact rather than a request for a lawyer. You literally have to state “I am now invoking my right to a lawyer” and every time they try to proceed with an interrogation you have to answer every question with “I am invoking my right to have a lawyer present”. You can’t just tell them you won’t talk without a lawyer or that you want a lawyer. You have to state that you are invoking your rights. Otherwise they could just say “well they just said they wouldn’t speak without a lawyer present. That’s not invoking their rights to a lawyer. It’s just stating a fact.” even just stating your right to a lawyer doesn’t count!
PLEASE share this addition. I am a lawyer who works in criminal defense, and this is one of the most avoidable things that people consistently get wrong about the Miranda rights.
Here are some more “ambiguous” phrases which courts have found DO NOT invoke your right to a lawyer:
“Maybe I should speak to my lawyer first.”
“I might like a lawyer.”
“I think I should have a lawyer present for this.”
“Could I speak to my lawyer first?”
“How long until my lawyer gets here?”
And perhaps most egregiously – “Get me a lawyer, dawg – ‘cause this is not what’s up.”
Here are the magic phrases which you need to know if you want to invoke your Miranda rights:
1) “Am I free to leave?”
It’s worth asking this even if the answer is obvious. Even if the officer does not let you leave, by forcing them to admit that you are not free to leave, you are creating a record which your attorney can use to prove that you were in custody. Miranda rights only apply if the interrogation is custodial, meaning that police officers will frequently claim that their suspects were “not in custody” to get around their Miranda rights.
2) “I am invoking my right to remain silent.”
Simply staying silent will not invoke your right to remain silent. As absurd as this is, you must explicitly say that you are invoking your right to remain silent in order to invoke that right.
3) “I am invoking my right to an attorney.”
As stated above, you must be not only clear and unambiguous, but clear and legally unambiguous. Don’t get cute. Don’t get sassy. And on the flip side, don’t get intimidated and use verbal ticks to minimize your request. Say the line with those words exactly – say it clearly, and say it once, and then say nothing else.
Because even after you’ve done all this, the police can still try to get you to talk. They’re not supposed to interrogate you, but they’re allowed to make casual conversation, and if that conversation just happens to circle back around to the thing they wanted to question you about, well, that’s really your fault for talking after you said you wouldn’t, isn’t it? Can’t possibly fault the poor officers when you initiated – if you really wanted to have your rights respected, you wouldn’t have talked to them in the first place.
The police know this, and they will mercilessly exploit this loophole. So, once you’ve successfully invoked your Miranda rights, any and all conversation you have with police officers will put those rights back into jeopardy.
Putting it all together:
Ask: “Am I free to leave?”
If they say no, say: “I am invoking my right to remain silent and I am invoking my right to an attorney.”
And then shut up and do not say a single thing to them for any reason whatsoever until you have actually spoken to an attorney. Yes, even if it takes hours. Yes, even if they start talking to you about something else.
Finally, a very important disclaimer:
I may be a lawyer, but I’m not your lawyer, and I cannot guarantee that what I’ve just laid out here will always work for every situation. We didn’t get to this bizarre and absurd place overnight – we built this ridiculous system piecemeal, by deciding on a case-by-case basis that certain phrases were “too ambiguous” or certain types of questioning weren’t actually questioning at all. The law is still in flux, and is still fundamentally out to get you, and willing to bend plain meaning beyond all recognition to do it. Even if you invoke your rights perfectly, exactly as I have specified above, there’s a chance that your invocation of rights will be disqualified on some new technicality that no one’s even thought of yet – and that’s precisely the problem.
Watch this video: “Don’t Talk To The Police”
I am begging my followers to please watch this video from start to finish. I know it’s long, but it is incredibly valuable information that everyone needs to know, especially if you’re involved in any form of activism.
Every single cop lies. Every single cop lies and manipulates and twists the situation around to get a confession. Even when they know that the person is innocent, even when they know that what they have isn’t enough to convict someone, even when they know that that confession has been made under duress or manipulation. All they care about is getting anything to put someone behind bars.
It doesn’t matter how eloquent or innocent or experienced you are. Do not talk to cops.
The video is a doozy. Aside from all the good advice, the racist dog whistling from the officer really jumps out. In fact, his whole segment was pretty effective to drive home the point that officers are literally trained to manipulate you and fuck you over. He does say he doesn’t “try” to put innocent people in prison, but he never says he tries to keep them out either. He also explicitly states that he destroys material that could be helpful to you.
In short, DO NOT TALK TO COPS.
hey y’all please please please read this and watch the video and do research if you can, this is really scary /srs
Remember folls
ALL cops are out to get you. They do not care about you, not do they care about proving your innocence. A cop’s primary concern is painting you as the villain and getting you behind bars so they can look like the fucking hero.
All cops are the fucking enemy, they will take any sound you utter and use it against you.
Do not say a fucking word to them. Not. One.
Remember, anyone who wants to circumvent your rights will use your cooperation to hurt you.
Once I spoke with a girl who told me a friend had invited her to a pool party, but she didn’t want to go because the friend’s mom had HIV.
I told her that this was a common concern, but HIV can’t be transmitted by sharing a pool, and in fact HIV is such a weak virus that it can’t even survive on a table for more than a few hours, and it can be killed entirely by bleach.
She asked me, “if you can kill HIV with bleach, why haven’t we cured it yet?”
I told her, “because we can’t put Bleach into people without killing them”.
She said that this was interesting, but she still wasn’t going to go.
(We did not become friends.)
The other day, I saw a group of teenage boys climbing all over an electrical box in town.
I walked over and asked if they were aware this was an electrocution risk.
One of them asked what I meant. I pointed to the large yellow image of a stick man with a lightning bolt through its chest and repeated, “it has an electrocution warning on it. Don’t get blown up.”
The kid laughed and said, “hey, play at your own risk, right?” And went back to his buddies.
I went back to what I was doing, but kept an eye out, and did notice that within the next five minutes, the whole group had removed themselves from the box and were now gathered several feet away from it.
I can’t make people do things. I can inform, and support, but I cannot make their choices.
This is something that is hard to learn.
The second story is also a great example of the way people can seem completely resistant to what you say to them, but with a bit of time away from you they take it on board and act on it. I work in guidance and sometimes see this happening, but often you don’t get to know what lasting impact your words have on someone once they go their own way.
