5 seconds after this photo was taken, the demonstrator was attacked by the Anaheim cops shown and arrested. Eyewitnesses said he appeared to have broken no law.
Source: NBC News (Los Angeles, CA)
Tensions rose again Sunday as demonstrators protesting Anaheim police shootings clashed with police and several arrests were made.
Up to 300 demonstrators protested as tensions surrounding recent officer-involved police shootings there entered their second week. Details about the arrests were not immediately available.
. . . .
Police in riot gear and on horseback formed a line outside police headquarters as the picket lines grew. Police are maintaining vigilance against the potential for violence.
"The initial group that was here concerned about the police incidents have said their piece and have moved on," said Anaheim Police Sgt. Bob Dunn. "What you're seeing left here is the people who are more interested in disruption and possibly vandalism or violence."
Read more: http://www.nbclosangeles.com/news/local/Tensions-High-as-Protesters-Picket-Anaheim-Police-164216966.html
Oh yeah, people "who are more interested in disruption". What a typical fucking pig.
However, the struggle against structural violence and state-sponsored murder requires honesty. We have to embrace the fact that many incidents of police brutality do not fit nicely into comfortable narratives for middle-class sensibilities. We have to stop trying to turn people into martyrs for the liberal cause, and embrace the reality that some of the people murdered by the state were first preyed on by policies like the War on Drugs and the prison-industrial complex. Many of the people who wore the I Am If Troy Davis t-shirts would cross the street if they saw him and his friends walking towards them. A lot of people who sympathize with the Anaheim community would clutch their purses if they had seen Manuel Diaz walk by. You cant wrap their stories up nicely and put a bow on them. These are stories of pain and survival in a culture where murder could meet you around any corner. In such a context, and after being ignored for so long, the uprisings are often visceral and intense.
In Dallas, a man named James Harper was killed by police on Tuesday. His mother cried out, Hes dead over a sack of weed, thats a damn shame. Hes 31 years old, hes gone. I wont see my son no more. This mothers tears should be no less devastating just because her son participated in the drug trade. There is a tacit assumption amongst well-meaning people that if the person sold drugs, and was murdered by police, then they deserved their fate. The simple truth is that murdering citizens is not a necessary aspect of policing. As Ive argued before, in 2011 the entire German police force only fired 85 bullets at civilians, 49 of which were warning-shots. Ultimately, in the U.S. the issue isnt the murdered or beaten individual, its the violence and the institutions that enable it.
Be sure to read the final quote from Desmond Tutu's Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech.
in Anaheim? There, a police force has essentially declared war on the people and constituted itself as a 21st-century death squad. And Brown says absolutely nothing, zip, NADA. Just like he said absolutely nothing, zip, NADA when the Oakland Police Department almost killed a couple Occupy Oakland protesters.
And Jerry Brown is supposed to be on our team. He is abso-friggin-lutely pathetic and I shall never vote for him again or any voter initiatives he promulgates.
This is one of the of the more thought-provoking essays I've read this year. I've read other of Graeber's works on Occupy Wall Street, but this one's scope is far larger and deserving of a wide read:
"A secret question hovers over us, a sense of disappointment, a broken promise we were given as children about what our adult world was supposed to be like. I am referring not to the standard false promises that children are always given (about how the world is fair, or how those who work hard shall be rewarded), but to a particular generational promisegiven to those who were children in the fifties, sixties, seventies, or eightiesone that was never quite articulated as a promise but rather as a set of assumptions about what our adult world would be like. And since it was never quite promised, now that it has failed to come true, were left confused: indignant, but at the same time, embarrassed at our own indignation, ashamed we were ever so silly to believe our elders to begin with.
Where, in short, are the flying cars? Where are the force fields, tractor beams, teleportation pods, antigravity sleds, tricorders, immortality drugs, colonies on Mars, and all the other technological wonders any child growing up in the mid-to-late twentieth century assumed would exist by now? Even those inventions that seemed ready to emergelike cloning or cryogenicsended up betraying their lofty promises. What happened to them?"
Thought I would post a link to it here for maximum exposure. Highly recommend. Graeber's comments about contemporary academia and corporate life are simply devastating.
"On Monday, the ANSWER Coalition was highlighted in the mass media for our role supporting the protests in response to the outrageous police attack in Anaheim. ANSWER placards and signs were highly visible in media photos and video. ANSWER volunteers were interviewed by mainstream media outlets.
That night, the ANSWER office in Los Angeles was broken into, ransacked and robbed. All of our computers, ten total, were stolen, in addition to all of our sound equipment and our bullhorns the things essential to organizing and conducting protest actions. We had many other losses too and our files were ransacked . . . . "
read more: http://www.answercoalition.org/national/news/answer-los-angeles-office.html
I would not put it past rogue officers in the LAPD to have done this to support their murderous pig brothers in Anaheim. But hey, who knows?
Monday (July 23), I worked for one day at a Tech Support job and emailed the owner yesterday morning early to say I would not be returning. I was feeling quite down about it all day yesterday, mainly because I have been out of work for close to 2 years now and thought I might have finally found a good job. I thought writing about it might help me process what happened so that I can learn from it for the future.
Alas, there were many signs ('red flags') early on that should have alerted me to trouble in paradise. The position had fallen into my lap almost miraculously. I had applied for the position a long time ago, probably through one of the web interfaces that have sprouted like so many mushrooms on the Internet. I may have found the opening on Craigslist, a site I often use, as the company's name was still vaguely familiar to my ear when my phone rang last Thursday. But I did not remember what position I had applied for, a memory lapse that only caused the person calling to laugh. The employer in this case is a company that resells a popular European accounting software package and then supports it after it is installed. The owner\managing director, a gentleman of middle-eastern descent whom I'll call 'Haroun,' interviewed me personally in his office on Thursday of last week.
Now this interview was passing strange as Haroun asked me only "what kind of money are you looking for?" and mentioned an hourly rate of $20-35/hour. When I said I was comfortable with that range and that I had made close to the upper value in my last full-time position, he moved on to talking about the company. At no point did he ask me about any of my past job experience. Nor did he ask for any references from previous employers. No asking me what my goals were or are, nor what my strengths and weaknesses are. Red flag #1, except that I thought that meant I was not going to get the job. So I tried selling myself and didn't lose a lot of sleep over what I saw as merely a practice interview.
I must be one hell of a salesman. Imagine my surprise when, barely 24 hours later on Friday evening at about 6:00, Haroun called me to offer me the job. Red flag #2. He was only offering me 32 hours a week and at $20/hour. The other 8 hours per week I was supposed to teach myself this company's software on my own time so that I could get "certified" on the software. The way Haroun explained it, I would be a 1099 contractor for 30-90 days until such time as I got certified on the software. At that point, I would supposedly become a regular employee with health insurance and other benefits. I had not really thought about it, but I suppose had I thought about it, I wanted a full-time job, not a 32-hour per week contract job. But at the time, I could not summon up the presence of mind to state that clearly.
I was so surprised to get the offer that I stupidly said I would accept it without any bickering about the hourly rate. I have this aversion to discussing money and, indeed, consider it not the highest priority in the known universe. So Haroun and I slipped into a discussion of mechanics, like start time on Monday (10 a.m.), clothing (business casual) and parking. Red flag #3 (although I did not know it then) - Haroun told me to look for the building with the yellow awning and park there. I did not ask Haroun whether he would validate parking. But maybe I should have.
Alma and I were both happy that I would be starting on Monday and, even though I had misgivings occasioned by red flags 1 and 2, I set those aside. Alma and I spent a happy weekend together and I resisted the urge to splurge on anything truly expensive. But on Sunday we decided to go to the beach and to buy foot-long subs at Subway to take there for a picnic. I put them on my credit card. "I thought you were only putting groceries and gas on the card," Alma said. "That was before I got the job," I jauntily replied. "Now I'll be able to pay the balance quickly. So the old rules don't really apply." Alma looked a little skeptical but swallowed whatever misgivings she might have been having.
Monday comes and I show up at the office in Beverly Hills, having parked in the building with the yellow awning: $7 early-bird special. I put the ticket in my pocket to get it validated later. Haroun shows up about 10:15 and I'm sitting outside the office in the reception area. First couple hours pass by routinely, with me setting up a profile on the computer and configuring the email client and testing everything. So far, so good. Weird thing, though. My workstation desk is littered with detritus: a spoon with a napkin stuck to it, the external shell of some electronic component and all of its set screws and connector thingies, and a large number of Microsoft Vista CDs. Very weird. But I figure Haroun, the 'Managing Director,' is too busy to do routine housekeeping.
So at around noon, this guy I've never seen before sticks his head in. Short and stocky with a block-like face, he reminds me a bit of Joe Pesci, except his hair is blond and he exudes this vaguely threatening vibe. The guy I'll call 'Thug' stands there silently but expectantly. Finally Haroun notices him. "Oh," Haroun says, "how much?" "The first five days," Thug says, "are $35 . . . " Haroun looks suitably puzzled. "The guy never came back," Haroun says. "He worked here five days and never came back." The thug guy stands there unmoved. Haroun goes, "So it's just for five days?" "Yes," says Thug. "So I can write you a check. I'll come down in a few minutes." Thug maybe grunts his approval. The weird thing is that he and Haroun keep exchanging significant glances as they each look in my direction. I have the funny feeling that Haroun is signalling Thug not to say too much in my presence. Finally, Thug slinks away. I have been doing some math in my head and think "Hmm. $35. Five days. That's $7/day. Sounds like parking. Wonder why the guy never came back."
Haroun doesn't say anything about it -- owner's prerogative, I guess - and we go back to orientation and I put it out of my mind. At about 2 p.m., Haroun leaves the office without a word to me. I have no idea what I'm still doing there, since I am starving, but I figure I can't leave until Haroun returns. Haroun certainly said nothing about a lunch break. Haroun returns after about an hour with a salad and rolls for himself from a local restaurant. I tell him I've got to get something to eat and he says, "No problem." I leave and go find the cheapest spot I can find -- $4 for a Chicken half-sandwich. Just a few bites but enough to hold me over until I can get home and eat a real meal. On my way back in, I stop at the reception desk - the receptionist apparently answers phones and does front-office work for several firms on the floor. I take the parking ticket out of my pocket. "Hey," I say, "do you validate?" "I'm sorry," she says, "We don't validate. You need to take it up with Haroun." She throws a weird look in the direction of his office. "That's OK," I say, "I didn't know."
Well, 6 p.m. approaches. In between lunch and then, I've called Alma a couple times to tell her how weird the vibe is and about how the guy before me left after 5 days. At about 5:30, I ask Haroun about filling out forms and so on. He goes, "Well, you don't have to, because you're a contractor. I mean you'll have to file your taxes and pay them, but you don't have to fill out anything." I go, "Well, do I need to fill out a time card?" Haroun hems and haws, "There's an application form and I need copies of two forms of ID." "Ah, OK," I say, "we can do it tomorrow." Haroun looks relieved
"So," I finally ask, "do you validate?" Haroun hems and haws. "I think I have to wait until the first to get you a pass," he says. "So what should I do, just keep my receipts?" He goes, "Sure, just get a bunch of them together and I'll write you a check." I take my leave, retrieve my car, pay the $7 parking fee and put the receipt in a safe place.
It is only when I am driving home that it all starts to fall into place. Somehow the person who worked there before me had gotten Haroun to commit to paying his parking. But he had left after five days when he realized Haroun had no intention of paying him in a timely manner. Haroun only pays bills when the dunning noise reaches a crescendo. (I learned about 'dunning' from reading the company's software manual If I returned to the place, I would be looking at spending additional hours only to see a real prospect of not getting paid at the end of the period or of having to engage Haroun in a loud and lengthy argument about it to get paid.
I suppose I must have already suspected as much while I was there, because I had sent myself emails from the work domain to my personal email, ostensibly to test the service. But really I knew in my heart of hearts it was to document my presence there. As I'm driving home, I start thinking, any place where I feel I must document that I was there to keep from getting cheated is probably a place where I don't want to be working.
I get home and tell Alma that I don't think I should go back. She has already had more than her share of run-ins with unscrupulous and shady employers here in LA so I don't think she is too surprised. And she agrees that I should not return.
So yesterday morning, I sent Haroun a nice, non-specific email telling him I've decided to pursue other employment opportunities. He tersely replies within 30 minutes asking me what it was specifically and that he will use my answer to improve his hiring process. I don't reply. Because, really, what could I tell him that wouldn't trigger his defenses immediately? How do I explain that I can't work for a place when I start off by suspecting that the boss cheats his employees?
Even today, I don't know if Haroun was running a legit shop or if, as I suspect, he's close to going broke himself so every payday represents a look into the abyss for his employees and himself. I doubt I shall ever know, just as I am sure Haroun will find many other desperate Angelenos eager to work there. I also have little doubt they will end up with the same feelings I did. So I am keeping the parking receipt as my souvenir of my recent adventures in job-hunting land. And the $12 credit-card receipt from Subway will be my reminder to myself not to count my chickens before they're hatched. Maybe Subway is hiring. Or maybe the Thug needs some help muscling Haroun. We'll see.
on scientific matters). I really wish you would make this into an OP so everyone at GD could have a chance to see it again.
Thanks for posting, btw. Bookmarking the thread.
you don't understand.
You people need to stop gnashing your teeth and rending your garments.
What's the big deal anyway? Who do you people think you are?
Did I get it right?