The Gazpacho Gestapo: UCLA student tasered for not IDing, being brown

From the AP, via Fark, who helpfully point out that if this hapless fellow’s name had been, say, Bob Smith, this would likely not have happened. It is not, btw, a criminal offence to use the library without identifying yourself, and the man they tasered is, in fact, a UCLA student in good standing.

A camera phone captured a UCLA student being shocked with a stun gun by a police officer after he allegedly refused repeated requests to show his student identification and would not leave a campus library, university police said Wednesday.

The incident occurred about 11 p.m. Tuesday after police did a routine check of student identifications at the University of California, Los Angeles’ Powell Library computer lab.

“This is a long-standing library policy to ensure the safety of students during the late-night hours,” said UCLA Police Department spokeswoman Nancy Greenstein.

She said police tried to escort Mostafa Tabatabainejad, 23, out of the library after he refused to provide ID and would not leave.

Tabatabainejad, who was arrested for resisting and obstructing a police officer, was later released on his own recognizance.

And, of course, there’s video. Funny, the cops don’t seem to realize it’s hard to comply with an order to stand up after the third or fourth tasering…

art appreciators unappreciated

Hoodie art 

The security guys at the Lowry centre are obviously not Tories; they don’t seem to want to hug these hoodies. They’re far more focused on preventing them from entering the public gallery to view the art their parents paid taxes for them to be able to see.

How fortunate for us that, in amongst the various hoodlum accoutrements, they had a hidden camera and microphone.

Armed with camera phones and a tape recorder, the Salford Star team sent a group of lads to the Lowry centre. “We won’t last two minutes,” was the teens’ prediction.

“They’ve got to let you in – it’s a public building, paid for by your parents … of course they’ll let you in,” responded the Star. “They’re talking all the time about how they want to reach out to ‘young people in the community’…”

Here’s what happened…(follwed by a rather glitchy slideshow, with decent-quality audio accompaniment)

Afterwards, the Star spoke to the six lads again about their experience
Josh:
I knew they were going to kick us out straight away, because we are a local group.

Would you ever go back?
Carl:
No, because it’s rubbish

What did you think about the Lowry’s attitude towards you?
Kane:
It was really bad, just because we had our hoods on.
Rees: They said it wasn’t open to the public and it was.

Do you get treated like that all the time?
Rees:
It happens everywhere.

Do your parents pay council tax that funds the Lowry?
Carl:
Yes – they shouldn’t have to pay towards it if we’re not allowed in.

Sirens

from the Archive

Sirens sometimes and screams, always. Warbling squalls of screams, gusts of them, scream fronts, the ambiguous kind that could mean something very good or something very bad. When it’s men screaming it’s that much more intense, whatever else it is. The worst thing is, you can’t see a thing. There’s nothing there, not by the time you get your courage up and your shoes out of the hall closet. Fifteen syringes between the corner and the first driveway, piles of torn bread scattered across the grass like abandoned snowdrifts, and a plastic bag skydancing in the warm exhaust from a cop car as it rolls down the alleyway. The ghosts look at you funny, and the buildings seem to sigh and close their eyes in exhaustion. And there is no-one there.

Then the screaming starts again, just a little way over, and by the time you get there, there is nothing. It could be aliens trying to abduct Downtown EastSiders, using the sound like a turkey call; that would explain the lack of…well…any thing. They’ve all been beamed up. But then wouldn’t there be fewer from day to day? And there are more, or at least plenty, thank you very much. Maybe they put them back after the anal probe; I can see why they scream.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the Astoria now sells hard liquor. Junkies are usually nice and quiet, just sort of slumped there, but booze makes you publicly loud; check out any Earl’s after nine at night, or just take a walk around Yaletown. It’s good for a laugh; they say all the same things, just really, really loudly. “Bob, how was London? Great, great. Did you recover your investment there? Great, great.” Good for Bob, you think. And who the hell is Bob.

Maybe the screaming is related to the new supersupply of crystal meth. This is the stuff OJ used to take; not sure if he can afford it now. In Asia it’s called Yah Bah and the clubkids get whacked on it and rumble. It’s infamous for the violence it causes, so maybe the screaming is a secondhand effect.

The other day a 74-year-old man stabbed a middle-aged man to death over an old debt. They were both in line at the soup kitchen, just around the corner from my house. There were probably a hundred witnesses, on which there were probably 175 outstanding warrants.

Sometimes I feel like screaming myself.

Borat Attacked! 2.0

 Borat, ready for action!

Okay people, you made me do this. You made me post about Borat when I have, I admit, no interest whatsoever in doing so.

You made me feel guilty.

Over 600 of you came to this site so far today looking for news of the anonymous New Yorker who beat the crap out of Borat (Sasha Baron Cohen) a couple of days ago, before Jeeves (Hugh Laurie) came to his rescue. And what did you get? A lame post about poster defacing or is that defacation?

Go HERE for the story you’re actually looking for, okay? I promise you, Gawker cares about this in ways I never could…

thanksgiving prayer: William S. Burroughs

One of the greatest pieces of American political criticism of the late 20th Century. I urge you to listen carefully, and repeatedly, particularly as the American Thanksgiving approaches, and to ponder the truths and untruths of Burroughs’ powerful statement.