Vanessa Guillen: Update

                Earlier this week Army Secretary Ryan McCarthy made a massive announcement in connection with the pending murder investigation of Vanessa Guillen. McCarthy announced the suspension or relief from duty of fourteen different members of Guillen’s chain of command. The soldiers who served at or below the battalion level have not been named. However, those who were at the top have been rightfully hung out to dry.  

                Maj. Gen. Scott L. Efflandt the Deputy Commander of III Corp was relieved of duty. Col. Ralph Overland and Command Sgt. Maj. Bradley Knapp, the command team for the 3^rd Cavalry Regiment were also relieved of duty. And the command team for the 1^st Cavalry Division, Maj. Gen. Jeff Bradwater and Command Sgt. Maj. Tomas C. Kenny were both suspended.   

                Although, none of these men took any part in the vicious bludgeoning and dismemberment that Guillen faced in her final hours. But they were ultimately responsible for creating and maintaining a climate that allowed her initial request for help after being sexually assaulted to remain unanswered.  

                There is a very common phrase in the Army: “Shit rolls downhill.” It many not be an eloquent phrase, but it is one of empirical importance when dealing with the chain of command. This means that leadership is ultimately responsible for the actions of their subordinates. Such as it is nature, filth breeds filth if it is never cleansed. If you have leaders in place that are unwilling to be selfless and look after the lives which they have been entrusted, then what would you expect those that they have influenced to impart on future generations of soldiers and leaders? What kind of environment would you expect to flourish when the weeds are never pulled from the root, and only removed from the visible surface?

                The kind of environment where a young girl who was just trying to keep and maintain an armory as she was told, was brutalized and murdered by someone in the same uniform.

                The reprimand of these fourteen soldiers is not justice. But at long last, it is progress.  

Waiting tables during the holiday season is one of the most sensational things that one can ever experience while being paid $4.34 an hour. Being a server is a unique experience in and of itself. Not because of the nature of the job, but the nature of the people that make your job possible. I must preface by saying that not all restaurant goers are terrible, far from it. But there are some that find ways to go above and beyond in terms of treating the wait staff at a restaurant like they are human garbage. Now, during the holidays these same belligerent patrons are out and about, hustling around, trying to find presents for their families. I assume after they grow tired of berating random retail associates, these vicious creatures need to take a break and get some food. I happened to work at a popular feeding spot for these monsters. It was a California Pizza Kitchen located in an affluent little mall in Colorado Springs, Colorado called the Promenade Shops at Briargate. And I think of one particular table of mine, from one particular lunch rush, every year around Christmas.  

We were absolutely fucking slammed. There wasn’t a server in the restaurant that wasn’t in the weeds up to their necks. And the hostesses were double seating us like that was their part-time job. I was running Sicilian pizzas and ramekins full of spicy ranch to people like it was life-saving medicine. One of my tables gets up and leaves, and as soon as the booth is open, it is immediately filled. Here we go again. I walk to the table and finally look up from my notebook and see someone who will remain nameless. This person and I went to high school together and had both graduated earlier that May. He was accepted into the Air Force Academy and was on the fast-track to being a pilot. I had picked up smoking weed, rock climbing, and playing these fun little games with my gas tank called, “How empty are you really?” and “Can I put $2.88 on pump 3, please?”. We were very different people, and we were both heading down very different paths.

We were never friends. We butted heads constantly throughout our high school careers. I immediately remembered why when he said to me, “Woah, man! Look at you! You work here?” As if my apron full of pens and straws was not indicative of that on its own. I replied with a grin and a “Yep, I sure do.” Followed by the kind of sarcastic chuckle that really sounds like, “I hope you choke on whatever you order.”  

Apart from his condescending personality that was like a cancer on any conversation had with this young man, there were other reasons he and I never saw eye-to-eye in high school. To put it simply, he was by the rules in the worst way. He was very much a “I’m telling” kind of kid. I was more of a “let’s not get caught” kind of kid. We were fundamentally different. And we both saw now where our different outlooks on life had gotten us. He was in college at a military institution. I lived with my older sister and all my clothes smelled like cheese and garlic because of this job. It was a real swift kick to my young ego. And he knew it because this situation only boosted his. He spent the rest of the meal making jabs at my job and being as condescending as possible. It turns out they’ll fire you if you explain to a customer that they are being a grade-a fuck face. So, I suffered through his bad jokes as our time together drudged on, because I needed money for Christmas gifts.

It was time for him to finally pay and get the hell out. And there must have been some Christmas magic in the air this afternoon. Because the chain of events that occurred in just a few short moments changed the whole dynamic of this afternoon. From the moment he said, “There’s a gift card. The amount is on the back, you can just keep whatever’s left for a tip, bud.” Everything that happened next made the half hour I spent being reminded that I graduated high school with a 2.3 GPA, and he didn’t, totally worth it.

I open the check book that has the ticket and the gift card. His total was, $24 and some change. The back of the gift card said, $25.00. “Fuck you.” I whispered to myself as I wished he had just left nothing at all. I swiped his gift card, and the screen in front of me told a different story. There was $50.00 on this gift card, and he had told me to keep whatever was left over. I was now thrilled to bring him a copy of his receipt.

I went up to his table and thanked the man like he was Oprah and I had just found keys to a new car in his check book. “Oh my God! Thank you so much!” I shouted loud enough for several other tables to hear. I sounded like he had just presented me with a publishers clearinghouse check. He was visibly confused. As he should have been. He knew exactly what he was doing when he tried to tip me a few cents as one last middle finger to me. I looked at him and said, “You have no idea how much this means. A $26.00 tip right before Christmas? Thank you, man!” Wide-eyed he says, “A how much tip? $26.00?” “Yeah, man thank you so much.” I respond exuberantly. Now, he could have gone and asked me to run the gift card back, but of course I made this whole scene in front of his girlfriend. No man wants to look stingy in front of their girlfriend. I really didn’t even have to make a scene out of this whole ordeal. I could have quietly pocketed my money and finished out my shift. I didn’t have to give him a real solid hug and pat his back so loudly that more people started paying attention to his unintended gratuity. But I did. And why not? Why would I deny myself something as sweet and as rare as experiencing a little dose of real poetic justice? He spent the last thirty minutes trying his damnedest to make me feel like I was beneath him as a person because I had a job slinging pizzas. This was insurmountably vindicating for me at the time. Not purely because I pocketed a relatively enormous tip from this pompous douche. But after being treated like dirt by so many customers and being able to do nothing about it aside from grind my teeth and curse their entire bloodlines as I smoked cigarettes by the dumpster out back. It felt indescribably peaceful to come out on top of a situation like that. 

We were busy for several more hours after that and I ended up leaving that shift with a nice little wad of cash in my pocket. Most notably coming from the Cadet’s generous contribution. After that shift, I went Christmas shopping for my family with that money.

Every year as soon as the holiday decorations start coming out, I think of that lunch shift. And it always makes me laugh a little bit.

But this year, that memory is accompanied by the realization that so may servers are going to be deprived of those kinds of days. Not days where they get to provide a high school nemesis with a healthy dose of humility, but days where they fight through the animosity and hatred of the “Christmas Crowd” and leave work with a stack of money and know that they have gifts covered this year.

Restaurants being restricted from having inside diners is going to be detrimental to so many servers this year. But there are ways to help these people out during this season of giving. First, order local. Get take-out from your favorite local spots. They need the help, the corporations don’t. Second, tip well. In order to keep your favorite spots around so they can re-open in the future, we have to ensure that they still have people on the payroll. Finally, just be nice to be the people that handle your food. Regardless of what time of year it is.

Merry Christmas,

The Second String Debate Team  

UFO Watchtower Podcast link:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSJhbtvjUrQ

 Podcast link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0PoWOinfAc 

            SPC Vanessa Guillen was a soldier assigned to the 3^rd Cavalry Regiment on Fort Hood as a unit armorer. She was reported missing on April 22, 2020 after a wellness check was conducted by her leadership. Obviously, Guillen was not found during this search, but the soldiers that conducted the check-up found that her military ID, her debit card, and her keys were left unattended in her arms room. Her unit reported her as AWOL (absent without leave) and not much more was heard from the unit or local media until June 30, 2020.

            Vanessa’s partial remains were discovered just outside of Fort Hood in the neighboring town of Killeen, Texas. She was found dismembered, burned, and buried in a shallow grave. She was allegedly killed by another member of her unit, SPC Aaron Robinson. It is reported that Robinson allegedly bludgeoned Guillen to death with a hammer before putting her inside of a large “tough-box” and burying her next to the Leon River. Unfortunately, for the proceedings of justice, Robinson shot and killed himself on July 1, 2020 when he was approached by the police for questioning. However, his girlfriend, Cecily Anne Aguilar has been arrested and charged with aiding Robinson in this atrocity. According to an affidavit, Aguilar assisted Robinson with the dismemberment and burial of Vanessa’s body.   

            Prior to her death Vanessa had reported that she had been sexually assaulted by members of her chain of command. According to Guillen’s family her accusations were met with silence. There was no investigation initiated and Vanessa was concerned for her safety. It was not until months after her initial disappearance that the Army’s own CID (Criminal Investigation Division) would finally become involved. This was primarily due to Vanessa’s family sharing the story of their missing loved one over social media. The Guillen’s feel as though CID had not placed nearly enough efforts into finding Vanessa. Especially, considering her prior accusations of assault.

            After Vanessa’s remains were found the Guillen’s took measures to ensure that this kind of unbelievable fate would never befall any other service members. First, they have requested a congressional investigation into her death which would remove Army CID from this case. Second, the passing of the proposed #IamVanessaGuillen Bill, would allow service members the possibility of reporting instances of sexual assault to independent avenues, that are not involved with the military. Therefor potentially removing CID from future mishandlings of reported and documented abuse.

            Because of her families persistent and virtuous pursuit for justice, Vanessa’s story has finally reached far beyond the boundaries of Fort Hood and Killeen, Texas. From the Washington Post all the way to Colorado Springs, Colorado. Where a group of local protestors gathered in Acacia Park to honor Vanessa by demanding a change in the procedural handlings of sexual abuse in the military, while also bringing awareness to the missing and murdered Indigenous women epidemic.  

            The protesters were comprised of members from several different groups to include, but not limited to: Operation 719, Pikes Peak Women for Liberation, Break the Silence Against Domestic Violence, The Colorado Autonomous Brown Berets, and Our Sister’s Keeper Movement.  

            Nicki Gerardo spoke to me regarding her involvement with the, Our Sister’s Keeper Movement. At March Air Force Base in California, as a soldier in the National Gurad, Nicki claims that she was a victim of sexual assault. She stated that her, “attacker was never apprehended. His unit claimed that he was never there the night it happened.” Nicki disputes the other units claim of her attackers absence that particular evening, by explaining, “He was still in uniform. I still have a pretty decent memory of who it was.” Much like what happened to Vanessa, Nicki’s claims were not given the time of day. She says that is the pattern of behavior that she wants to see changed as a representative of Our Sister’s Keeper Movement. Her group believes in providing service members who have been sexually assaulted with the ability to remain anonymous from their chains of command while they seek outside investigation.  

            “Why is there no outrage about this?” Another protester, Jennifer Yancey asked during her interview. Yancey, a twenty-year Army veteran explained that she was confounded as to why a town such as Colorado Springs that is surrounded by five military bases, has not been more vocal about Vanessa’s death. She also wanted to ensure that the public understands, “This is not an attempt or platform to bash the military.” She explains that the motivation behind this gathering is to promote a more conducive climate for service members that have been assaulted and are afraid. Jennifer stated, “We want everyone to know that those who share their voices here: you are heard, you are believed, you are seen, you are supported.” In a time where there are reasonable levels of uncertainty for many victims that wish to come forward, Yancey explains that they want to be “the support their chains of command should have been.” 

            The overall climate of the protest was peaceful and heartfelt. Brave men and women, some prior service and some civilian, took turns at the microphone sharing personal and detailed accounts of their abuse. Following the testimonies, a group of Native Americans and members of the Colorado Autonomous Brown Beret’s put on a spectacular performance in the honor of Vanessa, and so many other victims of the missing and murdered Indigenous women epidemic. Finally, the group began marching and chanting, “Say her name!” and “Vanessa” in what resonated as a haunting echo, that carried itself throughout the downtown area of Colorado Springs. The protesters concluded their march in front of a large mural entitled, “Take Back the Power” by Gregg Deal. Deal is a local artist who painted an enormous portrait of his daughter with a red handprint covering her mouth. He explains the pieces meaning, in his own words that he left on the wall next the art; “This mural raises questions about the inherent invisibility of indigenous people, specifically referencing the abnormally high rate at which Indigenous women, girls and two-spirit individuals go missing or are murdered.”

                At this time, the #IAmVanessaGuillen bill has not been passed but the family has gone before congress and met with POTUS. We will provide updates as we receive them.

Jeffrey Epstein fell victim to a particularly rare form of outsourced suicide on August 10, 2019. He was awaiting a trial in which he would have to testify against accusations that he was running a child sex-trafficking organization the size of a fortune 500 company. And his clientele was supposedly some of the world’s most prominent figures. And with his death, justice for the victims that had filed charges against him, and many others seemed to dissipate. But he was not the only piece to this puzzle. There are others that were complicit in this pedophilic nightmare that Epstein had constructed. One of which was his longtime girlfriend, confidant, and right-hand woman, Ghislaine Maxwell. 

Maxwell had been missing for nearly a year. Some say she was just mourning the death of her long-time lover. Nonetheless, whatever kind of spiritual refuge she may have been in search of, it was swiftly interrupted, as the sole of an FBI agents boot cruised through the door to her quaint, New Hampshire safe house.

At long last, Maxwell has been arrested and is in custody. The judge has granted her no possibility of bail. She poses an obvious flight risk considering her absence warranted a house call from the feds. In addition, the court has begun unsealing documents from a 2016 civil suit that could potentially, “name-names” of other high-profile people who were involved in acts of pedophilia and rape. One of the key pieces of information that was recently revealed through these documents puts Prince Andrew back in the spotlight. Along with the existing allegations of rape and molestation coming from Virginia Roberts Giuffre, who was an assistant and victim of Epstein. There are new reports that Prince Andrew lobbied the US Government to try and get a better plea deal for his buddy Epstein, the first time he was on trial for underage prostitution. All of this substantial new evidence is emerging. All of this new information surrounding one of the largest criminal cases in history is right in front of our faces. All of this tangible evidence is slowly manifesting itself into justice for these girls that were raped and abused. But in the wake of all of this affirmation, people would rather share unsubstantiated claims that children are being trafficked in cabinets.

In case you are unfamiliar with the story, the ultra-far alt-right source, Qanon has been sharing stories online that accuse the furniture manufacturer Wayfair of sex-trafficking girls by means of delivering them in storage lockers. These claims were spread through low-resolution screen shots of Wayfair cabinets that were supposedly named after missing girls and valued at incredibly high prices. Basically, the missing girls were being delivered to pedophiles in these cabinets and someone on reddit cracked the case wide open. This is simply not true. If this sounds like the plot to a fascinating movie that is because like many great films, it is a story that was also developed in the realm of fiction.

First of all, there are no children being sold through a company like Wayfair that reports their earnings to the IRS, which is public knowledge. That seems a bit advantageous for a group of pedophiles that must operate in secrecy. Second, there are existing testimonies of girls that were actually enlisted into this elitist sex ring, and none of them mention being swept away and shoved into the drawers of a nightstand. They all share a similar narrative in which Ghislaine Maxwell was their pimp and solicited these girls from low income neighborhoods. But that is not being spoken about, because it’s just not as intriguing of a story. Furthermore, the list of missing girls was comprised with the same meticulous fact-checking and research that can be expected from a source like Qanon. For example, Samantha Duplessis is one of the girls that was reportedly being sold to the world’s elites inside of a throw pillow. Problem is, she had already been removed from the missing persons list because she returned to her family in May (two months prior to this stories inception). Another girl that was supposedly being trafficked inside of a metal footlocker, Mary Durrett was found safe in 2017. This pattern repeats as these incredulous claims crumble upon themselves. But the most important piece of this factually deprived pile of bullshit is that there are girls named in this conspiracy that are still missing. And their families want them back. But the last kind of attention they need drawn toward their absence is a conspiracy theory.  

Spreading these kinds of theories does nothing aside from tarnish the names of the victims and associate them with radical beliefs. If you uncompromisingly believe that there is a child being sold into sex slavery in a cabinet, a cabinet that you could purchase via a small personal loan or a credit card, then what the fuck is stopping you? A purchase that could save a child from being raped seems invaluable if you ask me. But the reason that the sales of Wayfair cabinets did not skyrocket after this conspiracy found its way to the mainstream is because those sharing these “sources” didn’t actually believe it. They just wanted to stir the pot.  

Admittedly, I find myself throwing proverbial stones outside of my own glass house as I write this. Because I too share an interest in quite a few conspiracies. For example, I adamantly believe that Jeffrey Epstein did not kill himself. I also believe that children are being molested and raped by an alarming number of people in positions of power throughout the world. But this Wayfair nonsense is one I simply cannot entertain because of its potential detriment.

This Wayfair theory is just a hysteric derivative of the outrage that was caused by the emptiness attached to Epstein’s death. His victims will never see him face justice for his atrocities. And that can leave a huge fucking whole in the heart of any decent human being. But that is not an excuse to spread impractical notions like wildfire. We have actual testimony from actual victims of this pedophilic sex ring, and they are being silenced and hushed by fictional stories. Stories that will cause facts to get misplaced with theories, and possibly allow justice to elude these girls once more.

The beginning of this article shared just a brief synopsis of the new evidence surrounding Maxwell’s arrest and ongoing trial. But I implore you, the reader, to research more and stay up to date with this case and spread only the truth. Focus on the evidence at hand. Allow these victims to be heard, fully and uninterrupted. 

The believability of something so absurd speaks volumes about how we receive and digest our news. The true nature of the story is so depraved that it not only allows but it welcomes these outlandish conspiracy theories. And they are wonderfully intriguing. They tantalize ideas of justice in the most grandiose fashions. But as our imaginations are being teased, real justice begins to escape. These theories are cancerous to the truth. They infest themselves within the body of evidence that is available to the eyes of the public. They permeate public opinion and discourse. These stories impede the pursuit of resolution for the victims.  Most importantly, fallacies such as this create what our parasitic society needs to feed upon, misguided hysteria. 

The spread of fake news is rapid and vicious. Before you know it, you can become enveloped inside of a monstrous story that was created by loose lips, impatience, and imprudent displays of passion. Justice is not always expedient. Especially when those on trial have unfathomable fortunes and levels of societal clout. Spouting nonsense will not accelerate the process. Justice emerges through truth and zealous persistence, but it dies in delirium.

It was a humid August evening on Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I sat on the edge of an old trailer that was parked outside of our company area because we had just come out of the field. I was accompanied by my friend Tyler. And we were doing what E-4’s do best when being forced to anything at all. We were chain-smoking cigarettes, profusely complaining about the unit we were assigned to, and re-evaluating every decision we had ever made up to this point. It was a Friday evening, there were beers to be drank, but we were not going home anytime soon. Word had come down that we had lost a set of PVS-14’s (NVG’s or night vision goggles). And as it goes when certain pieces of equipment perform a vanishing act, we were on a lockdown until the equipment was found. Lockdowns related to missing equipment in the 82^nd Airborne Division happen more often than any of its soldiers are proud to admit. But those incidents are par for the course when paratroopers are consistently being hurdled out of aircrafts with thousands of dollars’ worth of sensitive equipment strapped to their person. As a paratrooper you become proficient in a couple of things: falling out of the sky and finding the things you lost while falling out of the sky. We spent hours upon hours, scouring every nook and cranny of the entire 2^nd Brigade Combat Team footprint in an attempt to find our equipment. We would join hands in a pseudo-sort-of kumbaya fashion, as we walked across enormous training areas and drop zones. Unified only by the harmonious complaints of junior-enlisted paratroopers. Eventually the PVS-14’s were found and we were released to conduct our “getting the hell out of the field” ritual. This consisted of seeing just how many Miller Lites the human body could contain in one evening, while simultaneously trying to erase the memory of spending days looking for NVG’s that were inside of some other soldier’s ruck sack the entire time…

In the Army there are certain items that must be under a constant state of positive control. These items include, but are not limited to, rifles, communication equipment, night vision devices, and even privates. Even though it does not always feel like it, the military centers around the idea of accountability. There are several formations that take place on a daily basis. There are countless, and I mean literally countless equipment layouts and inspections happening on a daily basis throughout the entire military. In fact, there are so many inspections, it is a leading reason as to why many soldiers do not reenlist. When I think back on the numerous hours of my life spent accounting for different pieces of Army issued equipment, I cannot even begin fathom what the fuck is happening on Fort Hood, right now. Not once, but twice in one-year Fort Hood has lost two of their own due to negligence.   

On August 19, 2019 PV2 Gregory Wedel-Morales was days away from being discharged from the Army for reasons that are still undisclosed. He was last seen driving his vehicle outside of post in Killeen, Texas. From there he seemingly fell off the face of the earth for nearly ten months. This story was originally reported at a level no higher than a slight whisper by his chain of command. PV2 Wedel-Morales was labeled as AWOL and life on Fort Hood went back to normal.

Fast forward to April 22, 2020. Another junior-enlisted soldier is reported missing on Fort Hood. This time is was PFC Vanessa Guillen. She was reported missing after a check of her barracks room was conducted and she was nowhere to be found. Furthermore, her car keys and military ID were found in the arms room that she was assigned to. Her disappearance was once again met with nothing more than a soft murmur.

Her family was displeased with the Army’s investigation, or lack thereof. They wanted more than just the publication of a missing person’s poster. The Guillen family was afraid for Vanessa’s safety because she had allegedly told her mother that she had been sexually assaulted by her leadership. They took to social media and made enough noise to cause this case to eventually gain some traction.

The Army’s CID (Criminal Investigation Division) got involved soon after and began searching for this young soldier. That is where this story becomes even more twisted. 

On June 19, 2020 Army CID found human remains that have since been confirmed to be that of PV2 Wedel-Morales in a field in Killeen, Texas. Foul play is suspected but nothing else has been determined at this time. 

Three days later on June 22, 2020 more human remains were found in the local area surrounding Fort Hood. These have yet to be positively identified but many are speculating that these may be the remains of PFC Guillen. 

July 1, 2020 the story takes a malicious turn for the worst. A soldier that was suspected to be connected to the PFC Guillen disappearance had gone missing from his appointed place of duty on Fort Hood. The soldier has been identified as, Aaron Robinson. Local authorities tracked this man down and positively identified him as he was walking down the streets of Killeen. As the officers tried to communicate with Robinson, he pulled out a firearm and committed suicide right in the middle of the street. 

PFC Guillen’s family is now requesting a congressional investigation into Vanessa’s disappearance.

I cannot lean on the side of speculation and claim that these two soldiers’ disappearances are in any way linked. I cannot speak on the alleged instances of sexual assault that may have occurred against PFC Guillen at the hands of her leadership. But I can, we all can, request that the leadership on Fort Hood, along with those belonging to the 3^rd Cavalry Regiment begin to keep the same accountability of their soldiers as they do their equipment.

The beginning of this article was humorous and anecdotal to educate those that never served about how seriously certain parts of the Army take accountability. For those reading that have served, the introduction probably just served as a frustrating reminder of time wasted looking for inanimate objects. But it needs to be noted that entire posts have been shut down for days on end while looking for sensitive items. And the way that Fort Hood has handled these disappearances proves that some soldiers and leaders alike, must have forgotten that these missing soldiers are worth the same kind of meticulous and aggressive search methods as the sensitive items you entrust them with.

Fort Hood, at one point you had three missing soldiers. Two that are now confirmed to be dead. One still missing. Your motto is, “The Great Place”. Those words are the first thing you see upon entering your post, but there is nothing great about an installation that chose to remain silent and seemingly uninterested with the losses being accumulated among its own ranks.   

Sources

https://abcnews.go.com/US/unidentified-remains-found-search-missing-soldier-vanessa-guillen/story?id=71536326

https://www.kxxv.com/hometown/bell-county/one-suspect-dead-two-others-arrested-in-connection-to-disappearance-of-pfc-vanessa-guillen

https://abc13.com/body-found-in-killeen-fort-hood-dead-missing-soldier/6258464/

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2020/06/21/army-confirms-body-missing-fort-hood-soldier-gregory-morales-found/3233055001/

https://dfw.cbslocal.com/2020/07/01/family-missing-fort-hood-soldier-vanessa-guillen-press-conference-washington-dc/#:~:text=Guillen%2C%20who%20was%20assigned%20to,her%20cell%20phone%20is%20missing.

Tyranny must be faced with a certain level of reciprocal ferocity in order to create a lasting impact. We have been living in the midst of an onslaught at the hands of those sworn to serve and protect us for far too long. That is precisely why our cities are filled with Orwellian scenes of chaos. That is precisely why the brutal public slaughtering of yet another, unarmed black man has drastically shifted the direction of our country.  

The slow and painful death of George Floyd was the unfortunate catalyst to a problem as old as the United States itself. It is beyond a state of naivety to think that racism is not alive and well in the United States of America. It is beyond even the threshold of blatant ignorance to refute the countless atrocities that black men and women fall victim to at the hands of their civil servants. It is morally lacking for any American, regardless of race, age, or occupation to not be outraged at what happened to George Floyd. 

In respect to their blatant and malicious abuses of power, the police are a fundamentally and irreparably damaged institution. In addition to what I can only gauge as a misunderstanding of their creed. “To Protect and Serve” has become nothing more than a collection of meaningless letters printed on the sides of squad cars. The police have overstepped their boundaries entirely as they have been caught time and time again, acting as judge, jury, and executioner to thousands of undeserving citizens. The very citizens they are sworn to provide for in the most selfless of ways; they should be willing to lay down their lives in order to preserve the lives of the members of their community. Instead, they have been found guilty of murdering human beings based on the archaic resonances of the deeply rooted racism that still courses through the veins of this country. This is an undeniable travesty that is void of ANY form of justification. The time for change is here, and it is now.

   

It is purely disgraceful how many people had to meet an unjust demise, because of a flawed system that values them less because of the color of their skin. It is unfortunate that it has taken so many years and so much bloodshed to perpetuate change, but I implore you to not become disheartened. The protests in the streets may seem like violent mayhem. But sometimes that is what change looks like. Change is not always beautiful, but through perseverance, it is attainable.    

We stand with George Floyd and all who came before him, and we will not be moved until a transformation of the police departments code of ethics is in place. It is time to make sure that blame falls on more than just the officer that killed him (Derek Chauvin). His leadership that allowed for a piece of filth like Chauvin to fall into their ranks for eighteen years, after numerous complaints, are just as complicit. A change of this magnitude needs to shake and rattle the structure all the way to its core.

Podcast Episode 13 (Health and Wealth) with Tony Russo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aYE_vODmv0

An Astonishing State of Disarray 

The media, specifically CNN, never ceases to provide the American people with stunning reminders of just how low they are willing to stoop in the name of increased viewership. The newsfeed has been even more dichotomous than usual with the resurgence of the Earth’s prodigal child, Greta Thunberg. She was invited to be a guest on a special episode of CNN’s “Coronavirus: Facts and Fears” town hall discussion. Obviously, this particular town hall episode was intended to examine the current state of the COVID-19 pandemic. Subsequently, Ms. Thunberg’s lack of credibility in the medical field quickly became the hot topic for discussion. And that discussion quickly evolved into hysteria, as the American people once again lost their minds over the convictions of a seventeen-year-old Swedish girl.  

It is not just a matter of her qualifications. It could be argued that CNN wanted the perspective of a well-educated, well-traveled young person who is living through these bizarre times. However, that argument seems trite considering CNN is the mainstream media equivalent of “Fear Factor”, as they will shamelessly do anything for a story.  

                The reappearance of Thunberg caused the media’s right and left leaning sources to take to their fighting positions once again. The right has been feverishly demonizing this young lady, while the left continues to present her as the second coming of Al Gore. However, the real and very inconvenient truth of this matter is that both of those portrayals fail to accurately represent Thunberg. She is a young lady who has been exploited by the American media in a grandiose fashion.   


                Greta Thunberg became the cannon-fodder for front-page articles and internet memes alike, after her famous, “you have stolen my dreams and my childhood” speech went viral in 2018. Her passionate delivery of that shot her into the stratosphere of climate control “experts”. She is now back in the public eye, as people have had an absolute field day by dissecting whether or not she is credible enough to speak on the global pandemic. However, that debate is as pedantic as it is redundant. She is by no means a medical professional, properly suited to provide the American people with credible information regarding the global pandemic. But neither is CNN.  


                CNN’s “Coronavirus: Facts and Fears” town hall is a desperate grab for viewers. It is not something that any human with a shred of intelligence should have watched with the intention of gaining knowledge. CNN pulled Thunberg out of obscurity because they knew there was a little bit more, they could ring out of her.


                Greta Thunberg is just a teenage girl whose genuine passion for the environment has been destroyed by the medias propensity to sensationalize the wrong topics. The media could not give less of a shit about Thunberg or the environment. Our climate should not be a divisive political issue, it should be a universally recognized necessity to just take care of our beautiful planet. But that is just not the world we live in.

 There is undeniably a slew of issues associated with the Earth’s climate, some as a result of the current pandemic. But we are not going to solve them by getting upset at the opinions of someone that is not even old enough to purchase their own cigarettes. 

                The entire world is in an astonishing state of disarray and here we are wasting brain cells debating over teenage-girls and the weather.

Alive and Well:

The Racism that Killed Ahmaud Arbery

              On February 23^rd, 2020 Ahmaud Arbery simply went out for an afternoon run in a neighborhood outside of Brunswick, Georgia. But due to the fact that blatant racism fueled by ignorant rage is still alive and well in certain parts of this country, that would be the last thing he ever did. A father and son, Gregory and Travis McMichael, spotted Ahmaud doing two things: being black and being their neighborhood. And that was apparently enough justification for the McMichael’s to elect themselves to the roles of judge and executioner. 

There had been a string of break-ins in their neighborhood, and according to Travis, Ahmaud fit the description of the suspected burglar. He “fit the description” by being African American. After admittedly being uncertain of whether or not Ahmaud was armed, or more importantly, the actual suspect, Gregory and his son jumped into their white Ford F-150 and began their pursuit of an innocent man. They followed him down the road in some sort of, “KKK” style neighborhood watch exited the vehicle, pulled guns on him, started a physical confrontation with him, and fired three shots during the altercation that subsequently killed him. These two imbeciles decided to take the life of an unarmed human being because they were speculative and threatened by the color of his skin. This was a hate crime by every feasible definition.

              It is now May 7^th, 2020 and neither of the murderous racists that took Ahmaud’s life have so much as seen the inside of a courtroom. 

              Apart from being a sixty-four-year-old blood-thirsty bigot, Gregory McMichael was a former police officer for Glynn County, before working for the District Attorney’s office in Brunswick until he retired in May of 2019. When you examine Gregory’s history as a member of law enforcement in the same area that the murder took place, in conjunction with the Glynn County Police departments leisurely pace in this case’s investigation, it just seems a little too coincidental. There is damning video evidence of Gregory driving the vehicle that his son jumps out of and moments later kills Ahmaud. And these two are still walking the streets, free of any charges.

              It has been nearly three months since Ahmaud was murdered by Gregory and Travis McMichael. and this story is just now getting the attention it deserves. But that’s only come after months of his family making waves through social media. This is an absolutely vile display of racism that needs to be met with proper justice.

              I have attached the video of Ahmaud being shot to death while out for a jog. View at your own discretion. But, please share this article and the video to ensure that the names, Gregory and Travis McMichael are remembered through time as convicted murders and racists as their actions have proven.

No matter the connections the McMichael’s may have. Regardless of Gregory’s past as a civil servant. And despite any information outside of these transposed events. It is our goal to ensure that Gregory and Travis are brought to justice as the despicable creatures they are. They deserve nothing more than an eternity to rot as away in infamy, persisted only through a legacy of filth. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIJkGV5wJz4 

Podcast Episode 12: S!rius Conversation 
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxgDPWVCrUzeXfx4_qK4GjA

Podcast Ep. 11

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VUTdVIqR1s

Podcast Episode 9: Tiger Style

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jiFVd_TDzIY

Podcast Ep 8 Link!!!
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxgDPWVCrUzeXfx4_qK4GjA

Power Trip  

The thrash metal quartet, Power Trip is less of a band and more of a literal tour de force. To truly critique the artwork of such a passionate group of musicians, I feel as though it is vital to not only witness one of their concerts in the flesh, but to also immerse oneself into the chaos produced by one of their volatile performances. The experience of a Power Trip show was never more deserved of praise than when they dethroned the previous Godfathers of aggressive heavy metal, Cannibal Corpse while serving as their opening act in a venue called the Blind Tiger in Charleston, South Carolina.  

I entered the Blind Tiger armed with the confidence of a seasoned veteran of the metal scene. I had lost track of the number of concerts I had attended since my very first. Ever since I was thrust into my first masochistic mosh pit experience at the hands of the metal juggernauts, Crowbar a few years prior, I had become addicted to live shows. This addiction had caused me to drive several hours to attend a concert that held all the potential to be the epicenter of all that is, “thrash metal”. The line-up consisted of three groups, Gatecreeper, Power Trip, and the legendary, Cannibal Corpse. They sound like a trilogy of Rob Zombie films because that is precisely what sells tickets and albums in this scene. This was a groundbreaking evening for both of the opening acts (Gatecreeper and Power Trip) as both of them not only tore this relatively small venue apart, board by board, like it was their part time job. They were able to cement their rightful places at the helm of the metal scene, they were able to do so in the presence of the legendary trailblazers of overtly graphic and controversial heavy metal music, Cannibal Corpse. They played so rapaciously that the headliner was no longer the main attraction.

Cannibal Corpse rose from the obscure underground metal scene of the east coast in the early due to the mixed reviews surrounding their music. With songs entitled, “Hammer Smashed Face”, “A Skull Full of Maggots”, and lest we forget the classic, “I Cum Blood” this band has been stirring up controversy with both parents and politicians since their inception. There have been many other metal bands that have skirted on the coat tails of nothing more than shock value, but that is where Cannibal Corpse had always set themselves apart from their peers. They were a groundbreaking group in terms of lyrical content, vocal delivery, and creating a sound that was an absolute onslaught of ferocity. They were nothing like some of their tongue-in-cheek counterparts, as they backed their disgustingly fowl image up with a sonic landscape capable of turning any fan of metal music into a fan of theirs. That’s why they’ve been steadily releasing album after vile album and touring the world for nearly thirty years. But this particular evening the mighty were destined to fall. From the moment that Cannibal Corpse took the stage it was evident that the vocalist, George Fisher was far beyond hammered, which can be an almost endearing quality for some heavy meatal performances. However, this display of braggadocios drunkenness quickly lost its romanticism because, well, there’s nothing artistically arousing about an overweight middle-aged front man challenging a much younger audience to slew of fist fights. This kind of “drunk step-dad energy” just doesn’t really translate well after you’ve been introduced by two authentically passionate performances. It should be mentioned though, that the other four members of the group remained musically composed and tight throughout the performance. Even though they seemed equally fed up with Fischer’s antics, they delivered the same heavy riffs and violent soundtrack that the fans came to experience. But such is the life of a performing artist. Sometimes bands tour beyond their genuine capabilities and become an afterthought of their own glorious heydays. Nonetheless, concerts such as this one would not be possible had it not been for this group of viciously descriptive heavy meatal mavericks, who laid down the road work for their predecessors to expand upon. Gatecreeper being one of the most talented bands ever created in the vein of their violent death metal forefathers.

I entered Gatecreepers mosh pit with limited knowledge of this group. By limited knowledge I really mean that a friend of mine named, Steve had told me moments prior to entering the venue that they were a talented band and their sound was, “super grindy”. I did not have the slightest idea what the word “grindy” meant in terms of music, but I found out quickly. These four long haired gentlemen arose on the stage, equipped themselves with their instruments and microphones, as the congregation of us beneath them began to go through the rigmarole of ensuing a proper circle pit. This usually requires a group of two or larger that take it upon themselves to migrate to the middle of the floor in the concert hall and begin to vigorously shove their fellow concert goers out of the way to make a circular area, that will soon be used for cathartic violence to a live soundtrack. This process is never truly complete until at least six or seven beers have been spilled on the same floor that everyone is going start fighting on in a few moments, and there is always one man who looks like a member of the band that got lost on the way to the stage. This man will take his beer and pour it all over himself as if he was WWE’s very own, Stone Cold Steve Austin and shout something along the lines of, “Fuck yes!” In nearly perfect timing with that audience member’s encouraging chant, Gatecreeper opened up with the track, “Craving Flesh” and the entire structure started to fly off the damn handles. As I was being tossed around like a one-hundred-and-fifty-pound meat puppet in one of the most ferocious pits I have ever been caught in. I had never seen anything quite like it from an opening act. I realized what Steve meant by the “grindiness” of this band. Their sound is the rhythmic equivalent of throwing meat into a wood-chipper and I mean that in the highest regard possible. The guitars sounded so sharp that they were able to penetrate my solar plexus and leave enough room for the bass lines to shake up my internal organs. The drums were so invasive they made the soundwaves feel heavy, heavy like nothing I had ever felt before. My brain was vibrating like it was riding shotgun in a rusted out pick-up truck down a washed-out dirt road. I was taking elbows, and other flying body parts, to the face in this mess of people. I was being put in a trance by the rhythmic fluidity that was being produced by one guitarist (Eric Wagner), one bassist (Sean Mears), a drummer (Matthew Arrebollo), and a vocalist (Chase Mason) who was running the whole show by spewing inhuman sounds into a microphone. They laid down a solid thirty-minute set that left me drenched in sweat and with an unceasing ringing my ears. Besides receiving a stellar cardio workout and the early signs of tinnitus from the members of Gatecreeper, I also received an opportunity to bare witness to an incredible performance. As I choked down a cigarette outside and came to terms with just how amazingly “grindy” that concert was, I realized that my night was far from over. The second opening act, the maniacal quartet from Dallas, Power Trip were the real reason that I drove three hours to Charleston, South Carolina. And they were about to lay down a show that might as well have just left my brain inside of a blender.  

Power Trip was touring in support of their sophomore album, “Nightmare Logic”. At the time, that album had burrowed its way deep into my heavy rotation of music. It’s safe to say that I listened to that record once a day for nearly ten months, from the time it was released on February 24, 2017 to December 3, 2017, when I had finally had the opportunity to have one of my favorite works of art displayed before me, in real time. To say that I was excited for this concert would be nothing short of a massive understatement. But all my ideas of grandeur in terms of what this performance could possibly contain, were shattered by the unbelievable display of outright savagery that ensued as soon as the boys from Power Trip opened up with the title track from, “Nightmare Logic.” The persistent whine of Blake Ibanez’s guitar strings being bent far beyond their intended position on the fret board, was quickly met with a brutally animalistic screech from the depths of vocalist, Riley Gale. The crowd recognized the intro and lost their minds in a fashion that seemed even unprecedented for a metal show. There was no mosh pit during this set, there was an all-out brawl. We were constructing literal walls of human beings, as we all scrambled for an opportunity to get as close to the stage as humanly possible. This was the type of concert that makes the venue owner look outside his office window, immediately pick up his phone to call his insurance company, and file a claim on the whole establishment. This concert was quickly evolving into a manifestation of the exact same intensity and energy that is felt when listening to a recording of Power Trip. Each and every passing song gave way to more and more beautiful absurdity. The song, “Soul Sacrifice” made me feel as though I may have to do just that in order to survive this display of brute force. When they played, “Firing Squad” I was under the impression that Chris Ulsh was going to play right through his drum set and possibly fall through the face of the Earth, if he hit those rhythm sections any harder. During, “Cruxifixation” I felt as though I was being drug under by a current of Chris Whetzel’s relentless bass lines. And then it finally happened. They played “Executioner’s Tax (Swing of the Axe)” and any remaining sense of normalcy or civility was lost. I have never in all my life experienced a display of unadulterated energy quite like what I felt and witnessed for those three minutes and forty-five seconds. Blake Ibanez and Nick Stewart created this unbelievable back-and-forth with their guitars. The intro to this song sounds like a sinister conversation being had between two heavy machine guns. While Power Trip was in the midst of ensuing the kind of violence that is usually met with police officers wielding riot shields, I landed any which way but gracefully at the feet of the Gale, as I had just been thrown up on stage. He lent me a helping hand and up to my feet. He put the microphone in front of my face and we both delivered a howling chant of, “Swing of the Axe”, from the chorus of the song, before I jumped off of the stage. As I rushed to the edge, I looked out into the sea of unruly people that lay before us, and I understood why these four guys from Texas perform with every ounce of authenticity that they possess. 

There is something so satisfying about witnessing the underdog get a taste of victory. But when you see the underdog become the new alpha before your very eyes, that will drastically shift your perspective. Heavy metal concerts are already cathartic enough for those who choose to attend them, but this show was something special. This show was the most unfiltered artistic expression I have ever seen. What was intended to be a night of showcasing the past accomplishments of Cannibal Corpse, became a spectacle of the musical advancements made by a couple of bands that they helped influence. After one thirty-minute set Power Trip took up their roles as the prodigal sons of thrash and ushered in a whole new idea of what should be expected during a live performance.  

Podcast Episode 7 link
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUSzlPxzHM0

POCAST LINK! Episode 6 "Corona Studios"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNfWYYnGp4o

Sensationalized Ed. 

            I grew up in a household that watched a lot of Fox News. Our home was usually filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and shouting coming from the likes of Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity. As a child I hated this. Not because I was a passionate young democrat or anything like that. I hadn’t yet developed even the slightest semblance of a political thought. Honestly, I just wanted to watch Nickelodeon. But at some point, during my teenage years, I started feeling obligated to pay attention to the world around me, so I started watching the news. Obviously, I began watching what was easily accessible and already in front of me. The stories that I found the most relevance and relatability were the ones that were covering the liberal brain washing pandemic that was occurring in higher education. According to Fox News, this form of influence was plaguing every major college in the United States. This concerned me greatly because I really wanted to go to college, but I was scared to death of becoming a communist. (That’s the kind of reality that partisan based news sources create for impressionable young minds, just in case you were wondering). But little did I know, it would be several years before I would have to worry about my ideologies being challenged inside the walls of a university. Because the first time I saw how much a single semester of college would cost, I nearly shit my pants. So, I did what a great deal of young Americans do when they see the price tag associated with higher education. I went and joined the Army. And after a few years of falling out of airplanes for Uncle Sam, I decided to hang up my uniform, and finally embark on the journey of a lifetime. Becoming a twenty-six-year-old college freshman.  

    

Somewhere between my teenage years and where I am now, my political views had shifted from a hard-nosed right-winger into more of a, “fuck-em-all” kind of standpoint. As a result, I was growing increasingly more apprehensive as the first day of school was slowly creeping in. Not only was I in full Billy Madison mode, being afraid of the age gap that was going to exist between my classmates and me. I was also convinced that I would be out of touch with my classmates. I felt as though my ideals were not going to coincide with what I  had thought the atmosphere of higher learning was. However, my anxieties were stemming from completely external sources. I had subjected myself to reading into the medias over-blown stories about the current state of the college experience. I was creating my own biases about something I had yet to experience in even the slightest sense.   

On one hand, I saw the right-wing news sources still just beating the hell out of a very dead horse. I was reading the same stories that I had read in high school. Stories covering the rampant persecution of defenseless conservative students at the hands of their maniacal liberal professors. The same professors that seem to be hell bent on furthering the “snowflake” agenda because of a deep-rooted hatred for the United States. And even before I found that pretense to be almost entirely false, that’s not what I was really afraid of. What really frightened me was the way the left was reporting on these institutions. From what I was reading about various schools, I just assumed I was going to be labeled as a, “white-privileged, alt-righter, guilty of using hate speech”. See, I’m a white male that unironically wears The North Face, thinks Bernie Sanders is a socialist tool bag, and finds it just downright weird to concern yourself with anyone else’s gender or sexuality. So, I was certain that I was going to be burned at the stake like a colonial-era witch because of my classmate’s “hypersensitivities”. The left leaning sources of the media are just as guilty as the right for their misrepresentations of the exclusivity and irrational progressivism occurring at most schools. Luckily, all of my fears and apprehensions fell by the wayside as I was slowly disarmed by my own college experience.   

What has been incorrectly presented as an intellectual battlefield between conservatives and liberals, is really nothing of the sort. College is not some dystopian wasteland full of students and their professors plotting against the conservative establishment from the depths of their, “safe-spaces.” It’s also not a place where the overtly conservative students bully their liberal counterparts into the previously mentioned, “safe spaces”. It’s just a place that the majority of students attend in an effort to better themselves. Admittedly, the stereotypes of the pretentious ideologues certainly do exist, but they are not the majority. Not every university is being ran like UCLA or CU Boulder. Not by a fucking longshot.   

The more time I spend in college, the more evident it becomes that even something as important as higher education is susceptible to the sensational grasps of the mainstream media. But rest assured, as I can report back to you from the frontlines of academia that there is nothing to be afraid of. College is wonderful if you allow yourself to enter it with an open mind and utilize it for what it is, a place to grow, both analytically and emotionally. And never forget, the same reporters and news sources that created a false sense of hysteria around higher education, are the same groups of people that have made the entire world deathly afraid of a virus that carries a two-percent fatality rate. Challenge everything and discover the truth for yourself.   

Disclaimer:

This article is not here to discredit anyone that has been truly and unfairly persecuted in the name of pursuing an education. This article is to discredit the sensationalism from the media that further drives the wedge of disharmony into our society.

  

De’von Bailey

Preface:

            I understand full heartedly that this article is showing up several months late to the game as De’Von Bailey was killed nearly seven months ago. But rest assured the fashionable lateness is intentional. This article is the beginning of a series in which I would like to re-address topics that have fallen off the media’s radar but have not yet received their proper closure in certain cases. Keeping in mind with the fact that The Second-String Debate Team’s audience is still relatively small, I don’t know how profound of an impact that these articles will have on the world of journalism. However, I do know for certain that absolutely nothing is achieved in silence.   

**********

            On August 3^rd, 2019 De’Von Bailey, a nineteen-year-old resident of Fountain, Colorado was fatally shot by two police officers. It wasn’t until after both officers pulled the trigger on De’Von Bailey, that he was found to be armed. He had a pistol tucked into the front of his shorts. This discovery was made as the officers began enacting their detaining procedures and also attempting to provide aid to Bailey, but to no avail, as his lungs filled with blood and he died in the middle of the street. This shooting gained traction quickly in the Colorado Springs media circuit because of Bailey’s age and the fact that the officers were not aware of the presence of a weapon on Bailey’s person until it was ultimately too late. While stories like this are somewhat of a regular occurrence nowadays, this particular instance made a decent amount of noise in the media because of what the officer’s body cam footage exposed about the incident.

The footage begins as the officers are responding to a 911 call. The call was regarding an armed robbery in which De’Von Bailey and one other young man were suspected of committing. De’von Bailey and his potential accomplice were being questioned by one of the officers (the one wearing the body camera) as the second officer enters frame from behind Bailey. Bailey seems to take notice of the second officer and immediately cuts a hard-right turn and takes off at a full sprint down the street. Both officers quickly react to Bailey’s attempt at evasion and match suit by chasing him down the street. The officers instruct him to stop several times, to which Bailey did the opposite. They responded to his negligence towards their commands by firing several shots into his back. Bailey fell to the ground and the officers proceeded to search the victim. During the body search of Bailey one of the officers is recorded saying the most damning phrase he possibly could at the time, “He’s got a fucking gun.” 

Those that support De’von Bailey and his family in this instance believe that the knowledge of him possessing a firearm should have preceded, not followed, the use of lethal force by these officers of the law. Those that take the side of the Colorado Springs Police Department believe that the officers were justified in their killing, because it appears that Bailey reaches down the front of his pants (possibly to draw his firearm) while the officers are in pursuit. And the media shaped the public discourse around this issue by turning both sides of an ethical argument into a partisan-based nightmare. Right leaning news outlets went with their typical talking points rooted in subservience to police always being the correct answer. Whereas the left leaning sources did what they do best and focused in on the fact that De’von was African American and didn’t really branch their defense of the victim much farther from his ethnicity. This kind of agenda driven media coverage provides no resolution to the victim, the family, or the officers. Instead they are now just talking points that are doomed to slip into obscurity.

Even though Bailey’s story did escape the confines of the local news circuit and receive a good deal of mainstream media coverage, the story quickly fizzled out from the public eye as both of the officers were found to be justified in the shooting. And while this may seem like the ultimate form of absolution. This story is still far from reaching resolution.

            As previously mentioned, it wasn’t until after De’von had already been shot multiple times, one of the officers says in the video, “He’s got a fucking gun.” This not only implies it confirms that they killed this young man on the speculation of a firearm and because he ran away from them. They ended his life on the pretense that he was reaching for a gun in his pants. And if that evidence was good enough for a court-of-law, then so be it. That cannot be changed. What can be changed is the accountability towards those who are ultimately responsible. That responsibility and that weight rests upon the shoulders of these two officers’ chain-of-command. 

            The media does a fine job of either demonizing or sanctifying the police officers in these types of incidents. What they do not do well is report on the chain of command. The leaders who are responsible for the proper training and care of their subordinates are usually nowhere to be found in the limelight. Except for when they provide a cliché statement of public grievance and condolences. That is why this story, and countless others like it do not continue to appear on your TV screens and your newsfeeds.

            The officers on the beat are the one’s out there really hitting the grind and doing the damn thing, it’s insnane to think that the problem begins and ends with them. Who trained them? Who shaped these officers from a civilian to an appointed steward of the law? And most importantly, why are they not being examined? This story transcends the death of De’Von Bailey and speaks towards the numerous cases that are so similar to his. There is an alarming number of questionable fatalities being committed across the United States by the hands of uniformed officers, this is undeniable. Yet, we still have no answers. We have incredible amounts of speculation from the media but that has gotten us nowhere. So, maybe the implementation of some new journalistic protocols is in order. It is time to stop questioning the police and start questioning the ones who are in charge of forming the mindset of our boys in blue.

             In that same frame of mind, we cannot forget about the mindset of the citizens whom the police serve. Shortly after the not-guilty verdict for the officers that shot De’von Bailey was announced, the sign for the city of Colorado Springs was vandalized in Bailey’s memory. There was red paint smeared across the sign to symbolize bloodshed and a message that read, “De’von Bailey will not RIP”. This shows that some people in the Colorado Springs community are not done with this story. And rightfully so. If a member of the community is righteously killed simply due to the speculations of those who are innately around to protect them, that poses some serious doubt. Doubt that is in need of some confirmation.

Bailey’s death cannot be altered or reversed. But if the right amount of pressure is applied to those who feel protected by their rank or position in the Colorado Springs Police Department, then maybe the next De’von Bailey could actually see the possible avenues of reformation that are available through our criminal justice system before he or she is placed in a body bag.  

Sources

denver.cbslocal.com/2019/12/10/colorado-springs-sign-vandalized-graffiti-devon-bailey-

shooting/.

www.kktv.com/content/news/Shooting-investigation-underway-in-southeast-Colorado-Springs-517188611.html.

abcnews.go.com/News/devon-bailey-shooting-police-face- charges-colorado-mans/story?id=67001965.

PODCAST LINK: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtEFLPe5IsM 

Thank you so much for watching, reading, sharing or just being here in general.

Comprehensible Wavelengths 

“Every time you open your mouth, my skin crawls. My skin crawls slowly like leeches on flesh. I feel buried under the weight of your own embarrassment. I want to stand straight up out of my fucking chair and scream at you. Not out of anger towards you, but in an attempt to direct the focus on me and away from you. Can you not feel everyone’s eyes searing through your soul like laser beams?! Can you not feel what they are thinking? I don’t have a problem with you. However, I certainly have a fucking issue with how you let people receive you. The reason social interactions are so fucking hard for you, is because of you. I know this because I see my own socially based errors and flaws coming to fruition, every time you say something pedantic or stupid in the vein of being unique. I don’t hate you, not in the fucking slightest. I just hate that I have to bear these feelings with you. Look at you, just standing in front of group of people, withering away into a level of embarrassment that is so evident it has become palpable. I would rather be swallowed whole by the fucking earth beneath me, than to spend one more second harboring the emotions that should belong to you.”  

That’s the dialogue that my brain came up with as I sat there scratching at my sweaty palms, biting my nails, and grinding my teeth like I needed a crack rock as I anxiously watched one of my classmates deliver one of the most cringe-worthy, “Hi, my name is..” PowerPoint presentations I have ever borne witness to. Apart from his overtly aggressive, “Thank me for my fucking service” undertones that made me want to violently puke on the floor until I subsequently died. This man felt a need to give the class an in-depth explanation of how he was conceived, followed closely by a collage of photographs that explicitly detailed every medical ailment that he had ever faced. At this point, I was so embarrassed for him that I had to say something. I felt as if I didn’t and I held my breath any tighter, I might physically implode. Instead of referring back to any of the thoughts that I had in the paragraph above, or even holding my tongue until I could speak to him privately, or even better yet, not saying anything at all. I audibly said, “Everything you say makes my butthole pucker.”

Generally speaking, that particular combination of words rarely goes unnoticed or without some kind of reaction. The reaction was laughter and deep down I fucking hate that. There’s no reward to be found in humiliating someone else. If I truly was embarrassed for this man, then why did I speak more of it into existence? I was convinced that it was due to the fact that I am just somewhat of an asshole. And while that simple bit of self-analysis may hold more truth than I would like, I recently told that story while we were recording the newest episode of the podcast and I was informed of a new term for what I might be. Empath.     

**********

While the term empath certainly seems more flattering than, asshole. I still have my reservations on how I feel about it. That’s primarily considering I had never even heard of it before this past weekend.

But I figured I’d do my research and see if I really had the traits of an empath. What I found was certainly interesting.

The article I found was from a website named, “Highly Sensitive Refuge”. The webpage opens up with an image of a woman who looks like she is truly at peace. She had flowers blooming from her face and she appeared to be taking a long, deep inhale of what I can only imagine is nothing but the freshest of fresh air. “Is this what being an empath looks like? I’m definitely in the wrong place.” I thought to myself, as I began to explore the attributes of this potentially new character trait of mine.

 This article below the image described the thirteen most common traits of empaths. I’m not going to bore you to death with all thirteen, but I definitely found at least one that was applicable to me. The article touches on how empaths are able to not necessarily just exercise empathy, in terms of relating to someone’s emotional expression. Instead, they can embody the emotions of those they feel concern for. That particular statement is what really hit home for me. When my classmate was making an absolute ass hat of himself in front of an entire room of people, I didn’t feel for him. As strange as it sounds, I felt as though we were both up there being ridiculed under the whispers and thoughts of all our uncomfortable classmates.   

I know this feeling of ridicule, all too well. For Christ’s sake in middle school (of all times) I was not only overweight, I was a chunky little emo kid, to boot. When you have the biggest titties in the eighth grade, and you have purple hair, your existence is pain. Believe me when I say, I know what the receiving end of embarrassment looks like and feels like. I hate it with every fiber of my being. And watching my classmate do it to himself was like watching someone slowly lower their head into a fucking wood-chipper.  

**********

But that’s not really the case, is it? There’s no wood-chipper. There’s no imminent threat to either of us. This young man is in no danger of hurting himself or anyone else by just being horrendously abrasive and overbearing. To some extent, I’m probably projecting my own insecurities on some guy that’s just trying to tell his story. But I physically can’t help but feel the way I do towards people that are unintentionally subjecting themselves to the throws of humiliation. And that is in no way an excuse for my outburst, or am I saying that I am in any way, shape, or form an empath. I feel as though, I may still be leaning farther into the territory of, “terribly judgmental” or “a little bit cynical” than I am towards anything else.

I dug a little deeper into the idea of “why?” As in, “Why do some people feel this way when others don’t?” I found out that there have been no scientific or psychological proofs of a true empath. And the study of hyper-empathy has not been entirely conclusive, either. So, the conclusion here is, I’m still very fucking confused. If for nothing less, this has been an eye-opening experience into how I perceive my interactions.

I’m not going to drag you any further into my journey of self-discovery. Because if I’m being honest, I find this ride to be very confusing as well. Nonetheless, I thank you for entertaining my mind as it pondered over one of life’s oldest questions, “Am I an asshole, or not?” 

Sources 

https://psychcentral.com/blog/new-research-may-support-the-existence-of-empaths/?fbclid=IwAR2B5C0cZZGTdgu-uooIMeYSgO3IbTJ6kQrauEMQjfDiYpQRz5m1NgS8AfI 

https://highlysensitiverefuge.com/empath-signs/