any white at a protest who tries to go against police and deliberately provoke a response from them is not to be trusted and does not have the safety of black and brown people in mind.
there is a good chance that they are police too. if anyone, especially a white dude, ever randomly gets your attention and conspiratorially tries to convince you to jump a police officer, then dude is a cop. They have been using this technique and script for at least 30 years.
Check their fucking shoes. They’re always too afraid that their little toesies will be hurt so they’ll usually still be rocking the exact same boots as the guys on the other side. This was what gave the cops away when they provoked riots in Toronto a while back.
@talesofalamia, remember when I pointed out the shoes of the two well-dressed informants near us?
Similar note: IME, unmarked cruisers have five distinguishing traits:
1. They’re one of the department-issue models. 2. They’re always white, black, or dark blue. 3. They always look like they just rolled out of a car wash. 4. Usually rocking restricted plates. 5. Most reliable if present but hardest to spot: Their mirrors are bulkier, to fit the light rigs in.
In Austin the under cover officer that tried to convince me to set a cop car on fire had a convincing fake beard.
Be careful out there and read up on common tactics used against protestors before going.
You can usually see the stealth lights if you look into the grill.
Besides the old obvious as fuck Crown Victoria, be suspicious of 2013+ Ford Taurus and Explorer, 2006+ Dodge Charger and Dakota, 06-13 Chevy Impala, 11+ Chevy Caprice and both the Tahoe and Suburban.
Look for oversize mirrors, plugs on the roof and/or A pillar, lights inside the grill, extraneous lights inside the headlight assembly, lights tucked up behind the rear view mirror, steel wheels with or without wheel covers, and plugs or short antennas on the trunk lid.
Reblogging this for two reasons: 1. So people who have reason to be afraid of the police (which is pretty much anyone with significant melanin) see it. 2. Uh, good writer reference for describing undercover cop cars…
i had to watch this like 5 times because of no captions but lmao if someone makes a transcript for this it would be bomb
transcript: “So we have these Santas at work, right, okay? We have black and we have white Santas. And they’re like creepy, five-foot tall, lifelike animatronic… like, Santas that hold plates of cookies and milk, and they kinda look like they could wake up and come to life and murder you in your sleep– and they don’t include batteries, but we have these Santas. Like nothing screams ‘festive holiday cheer’ like a big, hulking Santa. Um. Nothin’ will jingle your jangles more. So, um, this woman comes in and she’s like, “Do you have these?” and I’m like, “Oh my god, yeah!” So a couple weeks ago we sold out of our white Santas, and we are down to like, three black Santas. And so, I take her to the aisle, I show her the Santas, and the first thing out of her mouth is, “I’m not racist, but…” and I’m like, well, I can’t– I’m not in the position to decide if you are or not, but if like– if I could use context clues and infer, uh, I would say maybe that you might be. And three, we’re talking about Santa. Like– (stuttering) did we switch subjects? And so, um, I’m in like, I– the next thing that pops out of her mouth is like, “This is not right.” and I’m like, okay, I’m sorry, but this is what the picture was. And she’s like, “No. Santa is white.” And I’m like, oh no, okay. Okay. So I’m in– I’m about to tell her, I’m like, mid-sentence, like, “I’m sorry, do you want me to go call another store, do you need me to, like, write you a raincheck just in case we we get any more.” And she’s like, “This is wrong, I want them taken down.” She interrupts me, says that, and I’m like, (pause). I like, look around, and I’m like, is she talking to me? Is this, like, my own, like, personal hell? But like, of course it is. So, um, I’m like, “I can’t take these Santas down.” And she’s like, “Why not?!” And I’m like, “You either have to buy them, or take them down yourself.” And that was like, the stupidest thing I could have ever said, because– (sighs) she takes this bag, with like, Jesus’s face, like, slammed right in the middle as a design– it’s big– she takes it off her shoulder, and starts beating these black Santas! She starts beating these Santas down, they were like, falling down… and I’m like, oh my god! What– what is happening? So like, I step in the middle of her and these Santas and I’m like, “Ma’am, ma’am, you need to leave, you need to stop, or I’m going to have to call someone.” So she like, stops, and she’s like, beet red, and like, huffin’ and puffin’, and she like, looks at me and I can tell she’s just trying to get like, a one-liner in, and she’s like, “The Santa I know is white.” And then she walks away. And I’m like, well– I’m processing what’s happening, while also thinking, like, the Santa you know? Santa’s not real. So unless you’re using an ouija board to contact good old Kris Kringle, um, from like, B.C. or whenever, I’m like, that’s pretty impressive, but how ya doin’ that. And, um, I– the last thought that ran through my mind is that, I’m like, I would hate to be in the room with her when she finds out that Jesus is not white.”
About three things you must be sure before you read this story:
I am a grower, not a show-er. There is nothing terribly remarkable about my non-aroused junk.
I literally don’t care who sees me naked in the locker room. It took me a long time to be comfortable with my body, and I’m not in a locker room to flaunt it. I’m there to undress, shower, and dress.
My mood this morning is best summed up in these two gifs:
*** SO.
I’m in the locker room. I come out of the shower and go to my locker, and there are three guys at their lockers in the same area, all talking to each other. I pay them no mind because I don’t give a shit. I open my locker. I grab my underwear. I drop my towel.
One of the guys thought he was gonna try and be cocky and said, “You fuck chicks with that dick?”
…
My inner monologue at that exact second can best be summed up with this gif:
I turned around, completely naked, my apparently insufficient chick-fucking dick just hanging out for the world to see, looked the dude straight in the eye and said, “No, but I can take a dick like a champ. You tryna fuck?”
I have never seen a person so instantly regret a choice in my entire life. He started sputtering like a bottle of shampoo that was nearly empty and then just gave up and ran off while his friends just howled.
I calmly turned around and went about my life, minding my own goddamn business like a civilized adult.
QuikSilvear's Blog 