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So, my life should be forfeit? May 20, 2017

Posted by lawrencemerithew in anti-totalitarianism, Opinion, politics.
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A few days ago in Tulsa, Oklahoma, a police officer was acquitted of killing an unarmed citizen. He was shot by the officer as he walked away from her, his hands held above his head.

Let that sink in a moment. Walking AWAY from the officer, hands in the air. The officer was concerned he was reaching into his vehicle, for what, she didn’t know. Through a CLOSED vehicle window. With a SECOND officer assisting at the scene.

Yesterday (19 May 2017), she was cleared to return to the force, in a non-patrol position.

One account of the incident and acquittal can be found at the CNN website.

Here’s why I titled this blog post as I did.

I have been told I have a very intimidating appearance. Standing just under 6′ and weighing roughly 290 pounds, it’s easy to understand that belief. Further, I’ve been asked on more than one occasion whether I was under the influence of narcotics. No, I’ve never done anything like cocaine, heroine, meth, PCP, nothing like that. Hell, I don’t even want to take prescription painkillers if I can help it.

I do, however, tend to behave erratically at times, which I will explain at the end of this post.

Based on the general information giving in the Betty Shelby case, and the similarity to my own history, should my life be forfeit?

One justification she gives for firing is Mr. Crutcher’s refusal to follow orders. Is ignoring a police officer a sufficient reason for the officer to act as judge, jury, and executioner, if that is his only verifiable crime at the time?

If so, what does that say about American society, where disobeying your government masters is punishable by death?

Are police officers still public servants, or not?

While I’m sure the majority of officers would take a more measured response, can we still ignore the small minority that believe they are in the force to “BE served (by the citizens) and (BE) protected (by the “justice” system)” FROM those same citizens?

In short, when did America become a nation where those in government, in whatever capacity, are exempt from accepting personal responsibility for their actions?

To return to the issue of whether my life is forfeit:

So far, all you know is what any person on the street, or police officer, would be aware of when meeting me in public. What you, or they, would NOT be aware of, is that my erratic behavior can be the result of weak response to stressful situations, combined with being a diabetic.

So, I ask again:

Should my life be forfeit, simply because a chronic disease happens to manifest its symptoms at an inopportune time?


Soul Music September 21, 2012

Posted by lawrencemerithew in reposting.
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There exists a Universal Symphony. Within that Magnum Opus, there are smaller cantatas to which we are born.

At first, like so many, my line of music was a series of rests. One day, I began to sound my notes. Tentative ones to start, followed by more rests. Gradually, my notes became more certain of themselves. More frequent. More varied. Trills and arpeggios. Glissandi. Here staccato, there legato.

As time passed, I settled into my assigned register. Some voices in the Grand Concert are meant to soar. Others provide nuances and grace notes.

For me, I happily accepted my role as a root line of harmony.

There was another line nearby that encouraged me to play, to dance. It was a time of innocence, pleasure with all that surrounded me.

At times, I seemed more and more often to sound a note that was a slight amount flat. One comma off-key. The other lines seemed at times to mock me; at others, chastise.

I began to hear another song calling me. I left my birth song to investigate.

The harmonies were so much sweeter, so much easier to create. I experienced a joy far beyond anything before.

But the new lines convinced me there were some needs in my birth song yet to fulfill.

I returned home to find my melody had changed. What once was mere flatness had become complete discordance. My rhythm no longer matched. The line I had danced with for so long begged me to take up the dance once more. Harmonizing with it was difficult.

I soon noticed the partner line of my youth faltered. The rests came more often, the notes became more staccato. The voice faded from a brave forte to a whispering pianissimo.

One day, it fell silent; a caesura of rest.

I no longer felt I belonged in this song.

The other called again. I hungered for its pure harmonies. I was welcomed unconditionally.

I crescendo.

(This was originally posted to my blog at Open Salon 10 March 2011.  Reposted here for a fresh audience.)

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