Aww shucks! Was going to post this. By the way on of the songs in this montage is called, "Masculine Women and Feminine Men"
(E. Leslie - J.V Monaco)

Masculine women, feminine men,
Which is the rooster, which is the hen?
It's hard to tell 'em apart today! And, say!

Sister is busy learning to shave,
Brother just got a permanent wave,
It's hard to tell 'em apart today! Hey, hey!

Girls were girls and boys were boys when I was a tot,
Now we don't know who's who, even what's what!

Knickers and trousers, baggy and wide,
Nobody knows who's walking inside,
Those masculine women and feminine men!

Like SofaKing pointed out,

"Mallory ... was a suspect in an unprovoked assault 15 minutes earlier."

It's Mallory's fault that Mallory is dead. If the officer had a lethal weapon drawn, and Mallory began to resist... we reach the same conclusion.. and it's all due to Mallory's actions. He was a criminal and he fought the law. The officer didn't realize the baggy shirt rule, which was his mistake.


Baggy Shirt Rule: a baggy shirt and a skinny body are the best defense against a taser.

He sounds like Paul Mather from Three Dead Trolls in a baggie.

This is manslaughter rather than murder. There's also a fair distinction to be drawn between unjustifiable drug, and legitimate DUI arrests; however the cop's insistence on getting hold of the baggy, given that there are tests for intoxication, suggests he was trying to do the guy for possession.

Now, what this cop does share with all cops and many others is full and personal responsibility for every death, which number in the thousands, every assault and false imprisonment which number in the millions, civil rights violation, billions, stolen tax dollar, trillions, resulting from their immoral support of prohibition. I'd be quite happy to see him tortured to death with all his kind.

What the video absolutely does not show is the cop trying to protect the man's health or help him in any way. He wanted the evidence. Those of you deliberately misinterpreting the footage to preserve your worldviews are liars, and lying to cover up guilt for a man's death is reprehensible.

>> ^TheSofaKing:
Should have let this scrote swallow the drugs and die of an O.D. What an asshole this cop is for trying to A) stop him from swallowing the narcotics and thus putting his life at risk, and B) trying to subdue a criminal resisting a lawful arrest, so that oh I don't know.. he could get him medical attention for the unknown quantity of narcotics he just ingested?
What's next? You gonna blame the cop for all the hoagies and pork chops this guy ate that caused the "severe coronary artery disease" he had? This shitbag has nobody to blame but himself for the way his life ended.


This comes back to the age old "Nanny-State" debate. If the guy wants to swallow drugs and kill himself so be it. Why should anyone interfere with that?

I agree the cop should TRY to stop it, but if after 30 seconds the guy is still refusing not to swallow then just let him do it otherwise you risk hurting him just as much if not more so than whatever drugs.

The police take a dangerous route here assuming that this guy didn't have the drugs in a balloon or some sort of baggie that would allow them to pass through his system safely.

Also they broke bone in his neck doing this, that is just ridiculous.

^ This was fact

This is opinion: This more or less boils down to them wanting the ability to have evidence to prosecute against him, not saving this guys life.

Yeah, dump the baggy costume and do that naked in a bright white room of my choosing. Then I'll be convinced.

I have some Kush in a baggie right next to me! It's great!

so this is what sophisticated ladys wear? old baggy white tshirts? how classy you are whitney.

The Bloom, the Swoon, the Sugars on your block
The Planets land in flesh in the corners of New York
The ghetto, the meadow, the Mr. Butter flew
The Honeybugs dug and licked the honey dew
The sun, the kiss, the funk for a bliss
The lips with the soul and some jazz for ya hips
The puff, the buzz, the lids be heavy slick
The Mecca get a rush when the beats be very thick
The hands, the feet, the brown baby treat
The femmes fumble loose and drink the doodlejuice
The steps, the flams, the Planets goddamn
The peoples get a grip with a tape from a jam

The big, the fat, the cool cool cats
The psychedelic soul puts the Planets on the map
The chic, the love, the far out name
The lack of the funk's the main why we came
The boogie gets done, the colors won't run
The funk hits the square, the kids gotta come
The pizza with the pop, the west 4th stop
The crew after crew that do the grasshop
The true cool is black, the new school is fat
The beats by the ounce, the funk by the pack
The hanging off the butts with the fat sole kicks

The wide, the hip, dig it it's the trip
The loops, the scene and the funkifying it
The sounds, the pounds, the stacks, the flair
The baggy baggy jeans, the notty notty hair
The twinkle in the eye, the kids that livin' fly
The crew from the sky, the stuff that gets you high
The action, the work from the rhyme
We goes the whole nine
The papers won't rot, the vapors get got
The streets give the buzz the funk up your block
The opium groove, the smacked out soul
The kickin' it live the fat gotta roll

Aren't they Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie, not Moxy Früvous? That's definitely Wes Borg on the right.

Still, upvote for a great song.

Fuck you, legacy.

When you have to treat everyone that you're supposed to protect as if they were your enemy then you can suck my fat dick.

[edit]

I'm sorry about that.

I kind of know what you mean, when you were talking about the meatheads and such. I used to walk Colfax at night and I know you have to have a certain swagger in your step.

But if you can't tell good from bad, you're in the wrong biz. I'm one of the good ones, and if you're going to fuck around with me...then you really don't fucking get it.

There is a sensitivity and awareness that most cops sacrifice for...knuckle-dragging, flat-out mean stupidity.

I often wish I were a cop because it's funny how many times I have to deal with a real asshole - not a perceived asshole - and how there isn't a cop for miles around at the time.

America's pretty much fucked, anyway. We do everything about as stupidly as possible here, because that's the way it's always been done, and that's the only argument, too.

I don't give a shit any more. I, like thousands of others, won't even bother calling you bastards when we're in trouble. There's trouble with baggy pants and big mouths, and then there's trouble with shiny badges and batons. Take your pick. Thanks for nothing.

You want my support, but then you fucking treat me like...like everyone else that you treat, because apparently you're too fucking stupid to tell one from the other.

1) The attacker seems to know where the gun in the room is. So, how is that possibly fair? He gets the element of surprise, gets his gun drawn, and gets to know what target he needs to shoot second.
2) The students were put in this outfit, with baggy t-shirts and a waist holster. They weren't comfortable with it themselves.
3) Did the students know the guns were shooting paintballs?

I'm generally against the internet tough guys who think that arming everyone is a solution to crazy gunmen, but this "experiment" is just a strawman.

It seems like parkour tries to be a modern reinterpretation of gymnastics.

Why are they all wearing baggy clothes? I'm sure they don't help much with padding, but they probably get in the way when flipping.

Well, it's the Alley Cat puffin' on a hootie rat,
Some think I'm a criminal,
But, yo I ain't all of that,
Hit'cha with the baseball bat,
An' ya wanna ill though,
Wanna mess around ,
You get fucked on the hill bro,
Kick it like a steel toe, real slow,
Hits from the bong ,
Make me feel like Cheech,
And I'm kickin' it wit' Chong,
Just like Cheech & Chong frontin' with "Ice Cream",
Cypress Hill is here to give you a nice dream,
Speak it like a rolla', and you know it's rolled tightly,
I'm like the funky beat, so, why ya tryin' ta fight me,
Pigs often site me, that's not polite G,
And any hour of the day ya know I might be,
Harassed by a pig real fast,
They wanna Rodney King me,
Always tryin'a crown my ass,
Ain't got no class(Sen Dog: No Class)
I hit they' ass like the buddah thats stinkey,
They wanna' scruff but, they' just so rinky-dinky,
I'm the freaka, the one who freaks the funk,
Sen gotts the Philly, an' he's gonna light the blunt,
Sippin' curfew makes me go koo-koo,
somthin' like loco then turn in to this loocoo,
Binggin the beta,yea, now the funk is risen,
Got the beta bass and the nasal highzen,
As I kick atrip, it comin' straight from my siness,
Crazy nasal vocals, cannot make the hotties loco,
I rimemba sista Maggie, breast were kinda saggy,
Used to sell me buddah outta fucked up little baggies,
Honeyd up a twenty even when I had no money,
She said "Pay me back with some latin dick Sonnie"
Well I neva' went out, and I don' thnk I'm gonna,
Just for some buddah, she wanted me ta bone her,
Deminin', Ya think ya meanin',
I got somethin' for the hoes ta be skeamin' on,
I'm the Buddah-Real take a trip ta hoota'ville,
I'll throw ya out the door, of my big blue Siville,
Then light another joint,
This ain't no exploition (poin't),
Cause we are the ones stonein' in the ways of the mastas,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
(Sen- Dog)
Hit they, hit they ass,
(B-Real)
make the buddah get stinkey
Wooooo, Woooo
(Alas, Cap'in there's a ship in sight,
Huhu, Blast 'em!)
Stonend is the walk,

Mothafuckas don't get mad
Cause calis kinda fly
We be the gangsta town
The niggas that like to stay high
The land of big diamonds ya'll
Palm trees lowriders and moviestars
Where fools be mobbin with the real
Original where jackin is an art
Punk niggas get they caps pilled
And the hoes ain't scared to show they bodies
They wear the fly shit and freaks the set parties
Gave it up and the hoes wearin baggy shit
They the world why niggas got'em pussy whip
They got niggas goin to pins got niggas stealin
For friends for foes for shows and more hoes
Cause it costs a grip to live on the westcoast
Cause we be flossin
We leave the world a commadose
It's all about the paper here
So hear my dear
So roll me up a little chronic
Cause LA got the byonic


See ya got to have hot
To live in cali ya'll
You got to have the fly shit
To live in cali ya'll
It's gonna cost you a grip
To live in cali ya'll
Ya see the hoes be legit
When you live in cali ya'll


They say it never rains in southern california
That's what they tell me
G's with the big bank
Livin it up just to be a hoe player
All westcoast californ
We got them runnin in flocks
Now freddies dead
But the
Got you hit to the dope spot
And like KMG
They said them hoes be trippin
Cause bitches be settin a nigga up
When you off flossin
Still tossin
Yeah I'm bout to make bread
Wake up in the mornin
Found a mothafuckin bullet in my head
But it's alright
If yo games hook up tight
And in the summer time
Riders on corners
I wish you all can be california
Ya save up all
Went from slang dope
To get a fly ride
Still funkin on them switches for the bitches
This is off the west all
They call me Mr flossy
Dolla dolla bill ya'll




Yeah... And that's the westcoast anthem cali style boy
(straight up straight up)
Yo yo... (the
Yo you want me to set it off... let me set it off for them... uhh


It's the first of the mouth
And I just came up
I'm headin to the shop to put some rims on my truck
Yeah... and you know I'm like cold on them hoes
Cause I'm rollin in a black on black 4 54
It's time for me to check my connect
So I could be on deck
Before them fiens get they county checks
I left about 11:15
I spotted this fly fly cutey
In some
And you know I'm on them gold ones
So here she come... here she come...
Here she mothafuckin kitty come
All shit it's Sabrina from cavina
I hope she don't remember that I toss her cousin tina
Uhh... she probably care anyway
Cause bitches up in cali got game for days
She needed I ride to the mail
I said stall
I got shit to do
I ain't got no time to be fuckin with you
Uhh... and plus do I look like a cab
Turn the alpine up then I slam
It was hot like a mothafucka
Headed to the store
Saw a couple little homies kickin it at the front door
They say yo... hook us up main
Bought em a 40
For me I got a tall can
I said peace
Don't be trippin little comrades
But the shit be


Yeah... cause we O hit
To bring you the fly shit
To make you feel pressure
Cause cali could test ya
Comrades still bangin
My niggas still bangin
And there's a whole lot of niggas still movin yayin


Because it's highly compatible to come up
Ya got to have hard ache
Ya got to have a lot of luck
So if I hear you sayin cali ain't shit
Yo... you probably visited the valley little bitch...