sturg33
I
How have I not owned my words lol. As you said I've repeated it like three times.
It's just funny bc your defense is "the media wouldn't lie"
You have always been adorable
January 6th insurrection thread...
- Thread starter goldfly
- Start date
How have I not owned my words lol. As you said I've repeated it like three times.
It's just funny bc your defense is "the media wouldn't lie"
You have always been adorable
tululush
New member
You push a conspiracy theory that there were no suicides. I asked you about it. You continue to deny. I call you a conspiracy theorist. You ask why. I quote you 3-4 times questioning it. You push back again. 3-4 others ask wtf you’re taking about and here you are still questioning and denying. Just quit while you’re behind. It was a **** take and you’re wrong.
I’ll ask again, do you think 4 cops committed suicide due to the 1/6 events? Yes or no. Just a simple one word answer. Man up and go on the record and say yes or no.
sturg33
I
Looking at some data from 2019... Tragically, 228 cops committed suicide out of 697,195 cops on duty.
That's 0.33 cops per 1,000 in the 12 months
There were 500 on duty cops on January 6th. 4 have been reported to commit suicide. That is 8 cops per 1,000. That is 2,424% higher rate in 7 months than the entire year of 2019.
That's 0.33 cops per 1,000 in the 12 months
There were 500 on duty cops on January 6th. 4 have been reported to commit suicide. That is 8 cops per 1,000. That is 2,424% higher rate in 7 months than the entire year of 2019.
tululush
New member
Thank you for going on the record.
tululush
New member
Glad you're owning this take. I'm curious if these suicides didn't happen then why report names and pictures of those that didn't die? Wouldn't you think at some point these cops that are dead would suddenly get noticed since they're alive?
tululush
New member
Lol
tululush
New member
Hold up. They were at The Capitol on 1/6, survived, and in the past 7 months died? Relatively young and healthy men just died? Kyle DeFreytag (26), Jeffrey Smith (35), Gunther Hashida (43), and Howard Liebengood (51) were at the Capitol and coincidentally all walked away from 1/6 healthy and then just died months later? I'm sure you don't have an answer to this, but how did they die exactly if not by suicide? Did they die of Covid? I'm genuinely curious.
tululush
New member
Please review my post (2216) from earlier this evening. When you asked me if I thought Epstein killed himself I replied, "I honestly don’t know and haven’t given it much thought." But again with your facts of what I do and what I say.
cajunrevenge
Well-known member
https://lawandcrime.com/high-profil...-with-the-white-house/?utm_source=mostpopular
Congressman Mo Brooks is trying to claim immunity from Swalwells lawsuit saying he was "cooperating" with the White House which he claims falls under his official duty. The interesting thing to me is the lawsuit is going the direction I wanted claiming that the accusations Trump and Brooks claimed were facts actually are legitimate reasons to violently attack the Capitol. Defendant after defendant claims they believed they were following the Presidents orders.
Congressman Mo Brooks is trying to claim immunity from Swalwells lawsuit saying he was "cooperating" with the White House which he claims falls under his official duty. The interesting thing to me is the lawsuit is going the direction I wanted claiming that the accusations Trump and Brooks claimed were facts actually are legitimate reasons to violently attack the Capitol. Defendant after defendant claims they believed they were following the Presidents orders.
57Brave
Well-known member
Oh man I forgot all about that.
World History 101 Mrs Miller
Freshman year
Following up on your point I Wikipedia'd topic.
Interesting and I remember this too, it was practiced again in the 1860's
nsacpi
Expects Yuge Games
Napoleon III was emperor in the 1860s. Even though he was an emperor not a republican (in the French sense) he synthesized various strands of French politics that emerged out of the revolution. There are some similarities between him and very poorly chosen one, but also some important differences. The reign of Napoleon III in some ways served as a model for the presidential system that de Gaulle put in place for modern day France.
For more, I highly recommend:
Last edited:
57Brave
Well-known member
I remember Mrs Miller linking deGaulle and Napolean III.
Forgot all of that
At the same time, let's not lose sight of the fact it is August 5- Biden is still in office and Arizona has had a belly full of Cyber Nijas and the accompanying phuckary. It is common nowledge and easily looked up should anyone doubt.
and the boys are blaming Florida covid rampage on the Mexican border and denying / questioning ala Seth Rich - the suicides of capital officers.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
I never got an answer.
Has sturg ever been pepper sprayed ?
pretty sure had he, he wouldnt be making such a fool of himself on that front
Oh grasshopper --- what are you doing ?
Forgot all of that
At the same time, let's not lose sight of the fact it is August 5- Biden is still in office and Arizona has had a belly full of Cyber Nijas and the accompanying phuckary. It is common nowledge and easily looked up should anyone doubt.
and the boys are blaming Florida covid rampage on the Mexican border and denying / questioning ala Seth Rich - the suicides of capital officers.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
I never got an answer.
Has sturg ever been pepper sprayed ?
pretty sure had he, he wouldnt be making such a fool of himself on that front
Oh grasshopper --- what are you doing ?
Last edited:
nsacpi
Expects Yuge Games
nsacpi
Expects Yuge Games
It wasn’t a cop bar; that was the point. They weren’t there to meet other cops. They were there to meet girls. The three police officers took seats at the wine bar in D.C.’s trendy Navy Yard neighborhood—exposed concrete walls, leather banquettes, $13 tuna tartare—and despite its being a wine bar, despite the Wednesday night half-price-wine special, they ordered beers.
May 12, 2021, was a balmy night, and dozens of newly vaccinated young urbanites mingled out on the patio. At 10 p.m., the cops asked the bartender to put CNN on the TV.
“A true American hero, officer Michael Fanone,” intoned the host, Don Lemon. “This is difficult to watch. But it is the truth of what happened that day. The truth—not the lies that you’ve been hearing.” The screen filled with Fanone’s body-camera footage from the Jan. 6 insurrection, airing publicly for the first time. “Officer Fanone is outside on the Capitol steps on the lower west terrace,” Lemon said. “This is approximately 3:15 on that day.”
Mike Fanone—wiry, bearded, his arms and neck covered in tattoos—nursed a Modelo at the bar and took it all in again. It had been four months since the day Fanone nearly died defending the Capitol—the day a self-described redneck cop who voted for Donald Trump was beaten unconscious by a mob waving Thin Blue Line flags and chanting “U.S.A.” The day Fanone, a narcotics officer with the D.C. metropolitan police department (MPD) who’d planned to spend his evening shift buying heroin undercover, voluntarily rushed to defend the seat of American democracy and wound up in hand-to-hand combat with a horde hellbent on stealing the election. The day Fanone was dragged down the Capitol’s marble stairs, beaten with pipes and poles, tear-gassed and stun-gunned. The day he pleaded for his life as they threatened to shoot him with his own gun, telling the rioters he had kids, until they relented and spared him.
On the TV at the bar, Fanone’s hand strained to push them away. The crush parted, and the full scene came into view: the grand terrace, the teeming crowd. Bodies upon bodies as far as the eye could see. Red hats and camo, Trump flags and American flags, all pressing forward, trying to break the cops’ tenuous hold on the central door into the building. There is a thin blue line between order and chaos, and at that moment, Mike Fanone was it.
The footage showed Fanone getting pulled out into the scrum. A man’s voice: “I got one!” Then Fanone began to scream the high-pitched, undignified screams of a man being tased in the back of the neck.
The bar fell silent as the body-cam footage played. And suddenly, for the first time since that day, Fanone was sobbing uncontrollably, shoulders heaving as his buddies put their arms around him.
Fanone—40, nearly broke, living with his mother, seeing ghosts, unable to return to duty in the only job he’d ever loved, possibly forever—had seen the footage a hundred times. But this was the first time he’d viewed it with other people, watched them witness what he lived through, see it through his eyes, feel his aggression, his valor, his abject terror. He sat there crying for a good 20 minutes. At some point he looked up and realized he was surrounded: everyone in the bar had come inside from the patio and gathered around him, watching the footage on the screen.
The months since Jan. 6 had not been easy for Fanone. Still recuperating from life-threatening injuries and posttraumatic stress disorder, he’d found himself increasingly isolated. Republicans didn’t want him to exist, and Democrats weren’t in the mood for hero cops. Even many of his colleagues didn’t see why he couldn’t just get over it. That very day, a GOP Congressman had testified that what had happened was more like a “tourist visit” than an “insurrection.” But no one could see this footage, Fanone thought, and deny what really happened that day. History would be forced to record it.
This is the story of what happened after Jan. 6. This is Mike Fanone’s story, recounted over weeks of searching conversations and corroborated by witnesses, public records and videotape. It is a story about what we agree to remember and what we choose to forget, about how history is not lived but manufactured after the fact. In the aftermath of a national tragedy, we are supposed to come together and say “never forget,” to agree on the heroes and the villains, on who was at fault and how their culpability must be avenged. But what happens if we can’t agree? What if we’re too busy arguing to face what really happened?
“There’s people on both sides of the political aisle that are like, ‘Listen, Jan. 6 happened, it was bad, we need to move on as a country,’” Fanone tells me one recent afternoon on the well-kept back patio of his mother’s house, between long swigs from a beer can. It’s in a quiet exurban Virginia neighborhood, ranch houses alternating with McMansions, American flags flying over big green yards. “What an arrogant f-cking thing for someone to say that wasn’t there that day,” he says. “What needs to happen is there needs to be a reckoning.”
What makes a hero? Is it bravery, charging into danger to protect others? Is it sacrifice, the damage sustained in the process? Or is it the man who refuses to let us forget?
https://time.com/6087577/michael-fanone-january-6-interview/
the interview that follows is worth the read
May 12, 2021, was a balmy night, and dozens of newly vaccinated young urbanites mingled out on the patio. At 10 p.m., the cops asked the bartender to put CNN on the TV.
“A true American hero, officer Michael Fanone,” intoned the host, Don Lemon. “This is difficult to watch. But it is the truth of what happened that day. The truth—not the lies that you’ve been hearing.” The screen filled with Fanone’s body-camera footage from the Jan. 6 insurrection, airing publicly for the first time. “Officer Fanone is outside on the Capitol steps on the lower west terrace,” Lemon said. “This is approximately 3:15 on that day.”
Mike Fanone—wiry, bearded, his arms and neck covered in tattoos—nursed a Modelo at the bar and took it all in again. It had been four months since the day Fanone nearly died defending the Capitol—the day a self-described redneck cop who voted for Donald Trump was beaten unconscious by a mob waving Thin Blue Line flags and chanting “U.S.A.” The day Fanone, a narcotics officer with the D.C. metropolitan police department (MPD) who’d planned to spend his evening shift buying heroin undercover, voluntarily rushed to defend the seat of American democracy and wound up in hand-to-hand combat with a horde hellbent on stealing the election. The day Fanone was dragged down the Capitol’s marble stairs, beaten with pipes and poles, tear-gassed and stun-gunned. The day he pleaded for his life as they threatened to shoot him with his own gun, telling the rioters he had kids, until they relented and spared him.
On the TV at the bar, Fanone’s hand strained to push them away. The crush parted, and the full scene came into view: the grand terrace, the teeming crowd. Bodies upon bodies as far as the eye could see. Red hats and camo, Trump flags and American flags, all pressing forward, trying to break the cops’ tenuous hold on the central door into the building. There is a thin blue line between order and chaos, and at that moment, Mike Fanone was it.
The footage showed Fanone getting pulled out into the scrum. A man’s voice: “I got one!” Then Fanone began to scream the high-pitched, undignified screams of a man being tased in the back of the neck.
The bar fell silent as the body-cam footage played. And suddenly, for the first time since that day, Fanone was sobbing uncontrollably, shoulders heaving as his buddies put their arms around him.
Fanone—40, nearly broke, living with his mother, seeing ghosts, unable to return to duty in the only job he’d ever loved, possibly forever—had seen the footage a hundred times. But this was the first time he’d viewed it with other people, watched them witness what he lived through, see it through his eyes, feel his aggression, his valor, his abject terror. He sat there crying for a good 20 minutes. At some point he looked up and realized he was surrounded: everyone in the bar had come inside from the patio and gathered around him, watching the footage on the screen.
The months since Jan. 6 had not been easy for Fanone. Still recuperating from life-threatening injuries and posttraumatic stress disorder, he’d found himself increasingly isolated. Republicans didn’t want him to exist, and Democrats weren’t in the mood for hero cops. Even many of his colleagues didn’t see why he couldn’t just get over it. That very day, a GOP Congressman had testified that what had happened was more like a “tourist visit” than an “insurrection.” But no one could see this footage, Fanone thought, and deny what really happened that day. History would be forced to record it.
This is the story of what happened after Jan. 6. This is Mike Fanone’s story, recounted over weeks of searching conversations and corroborated by witnesses, public records and videotape. It is a story about what we agree to remember and what we choose to forget, about how history is not lived but manufactured after the fact. In the aftermath of a national tragedy, we are supposed to come together and say “never forget,” to agree on the heroes and the villains, on who was at fault and how their culpability must be avenged. But what happens if we can’t agree? What if we’re too busy arguing to face what really happened?
“There’s people on both sides of the political aisle that are like, ‘Listen, Jan. 6 happened, it was bad, we need to move on as a country,’” Fanone tells me one recent afternoon on the well-kept back patio of his mother’s house, between long swigs from a beer can. It’s in a quiet exurban Virginia neighborhood, ranch houses alternating with McMansions, American flags flying over big green yards. “What an arrogant f-cking thing for someone to say that wasn’t there that day,” he says. “What needs to happen is there needs to be a reckoning.”
What makes a hero? Is it bravery, charging into danger to protect others? Is it sacrifice, the damage sustained in the process? Or is it the man who refuses to let us forget?
https://time.com/6087577/michael-fanone-january-6-interview/
the interview that follows is worth the read