Anybody tries beating the shit out of me while using slurs in about 35 days and I’m sorry but they’re gonna be on the business end of a much worse situation than they expected. These people are getting so fucking brazen and it’s because they think LGBT people have no fight in us. And I’m always so worried that if, and I hope this never ever happens and most everyone carrying legally hopes the same, I ever have to defend myself using lethal force a jury is going to be more likely because I’m gay and black to buy that I was am aggressor, despite overwhelming evidence and generous local self defense laws. But I’d rather make it to a trial than not make it to one at all. I’m not gonna be getting bashed for being gay, no way.
A/N: Hamburr, based off of this post by @iusedteabag. Also based on a real conversation my friend and I had. All the facts that Hamilton texts are true, by the way, including the New Jersey case.
It’s three in the morning when Burr first hears the beep of his phone. He’s never been the deepest sleeper, and his eyes shoot open almost immediately. He groans as he looks at the time, slowly closing his eyes again. It’s probably another stupid news alert. Burr is slowly drifting off again, when there’s suddenly another ding. He blinks a few times, before deciding that there’s probably some type of emergency and he should see what’s going on.
Hamilton 3:12: You know how you said I could fight you? Like, you actually said “fight me” at work today like a twelve-year-old memer online, but I took it as a challenge because fuck you, I want to fight. The thing is, that it’s illegal to do it here in New Jersey so I’m reading through the self defense laws of a bunch of the states because I want to fight.
Burr groans. Hamilton’s talking style is always like this. It’s tons of words that barely do anything other than muddle what the main point is. Burr has to read it a few times to understand what Hamilton is trying to say. He moves onto the next message.
Hamilton 3:16: Whoops I got distracted and wanted to figure out why duels are illegal in New Jersey and so I was reading the case cited by the book of self defense laws and it’s actually pretty hilarious. Here’s the first paragraph of the report: “According to the State’s proofs, in the late summer and into the early fall of 1998, defendant’s girlfriend, Josefina Garcia, was pregnant with his child. During that time, defendant was also romantically involved with four or five other women, one of whom was named Yolanda. Yolanda was simultaneously involved with Raymond Sierra, the victim on the attempted murder count, with whom she had a son. Defendant’s relationship with Garcia ended after they had an argument regarding his relationship with Yolanda.” Anyway I think you’d like that since you’re a nerd who’s also into shitty romance novels. It sounds like a romance novel, right? It’d probably be called “murder and love” or some shit. I wouldn’t know. I fucking hate romance novels.
Burr begins to type up a response, but a new message shows up:
Hamilton 3:18: Okay obviously this isn’t the only reason that duels are illegal; it’s just what led to the current laws, but it’s pretty fucking hilarious. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to meet in California? They have a pretty reasonable code there. I’m the challenged party, so I get to pick the weapons. The thing is that if we start the fight, we both lose the right to self defense unless one of us “retreats.” If I kill you while neither one of us has a right to self defense, is it murder or manslaughter? I’m a fucking law major and I can’t understand this shit.
Burr’s already dozing off in the middle of the message because he’s tired and really doesn’t care about whatever Hamilton’s spouting.
Hamilton 3:20: That last message probably didn’t make much sense, sorry. It’s 3:20 in the morning and I’m tired. I can see the read receipts by the way, I know you’re reading this. Are you backing down from your challenge or something?
Hamilton’s already typing again. Burr groans, beginning to type another message.
Hamilton 3:21: We can duel in Seattle, it’s completely legal. Wanna meet there? I’ll steal some money from Jefferson it’s not like he’s going to notice.
Burr 3:21: It’s 3:21 in the morning, Hamilton.
Hamilton 3:22: Want a ticket for a 5am flight? I can buy you one if you want. One of us is going to be dead anyway on the way back and it’s going to be hilarious to see you stranded there if I die.
Burr 3:22: Hamilton, are you okay?
Hamilton 3:23: Not really.
Burr sighs, calling Hamilton. He presses the phone against his ear and hears the call getting picked up on the other side.
“Hamilton,” Burr says, voice still groggy. “Go to sleep. You’ll feel better.”
“Actually, I doubt it,” Hamilton says, and Burr can hear him taking a deep breath like he’s going to start another rant. “Because if I fall asleep, then I miss out on all this work and then I’ll be behind and-”
“Have you realized that your work past midnight is absolutely horrible?” Burr asks. It’s true. It’s sloppy and barely comprehensible and Burr always ends up having to edit it.
“Wow. This is the first time I’ve heard your opinion on something. I should call you at three in the morning more often.”
“Don’t,” Burr groans.
Hamilton chuckles from the other side.
“Go to sleep, or I’m coming over there myself and-”
“You wanna know the real reason I never sleep?” Hamilton asks. Burr can hear a bit of hesitation in his voice. Hamilton doesn’t even wait for Burr to answer before continuing. “I’m just worried that I’m never going to do anything worth remembering so I’m constantly doing things so that the feelings of self doubt that I always have don’t catch up to me. I hate it and I know I’m annoying but I can’t stop because if I do, I start hating myself more and I really can’t deal with that.”
“Hamilton, I’m going over to your place. You need to sleep,” Burr says, pushing himself out of bed.
“No. Please don’t. It’s going to make it worse,” Hamilton says.
Burr can hear the pleading tone in Hamilton’s voice, and he sits back down on the bed. There’s an uncomfortable silence, and Burr can tell that the call has become too serious.
He decides to try to lighten the mood. “Your future depends on your dreams, Hamilton. So go to sleep,” he says, hoping the joke is received well.
Burr can hear chuckling on the other side. “Yeah, okay. Good one. Burr, you’re more pleasant at 3:00 in the morning, you know that?”
“Maybe it’s because you let me talk for once,” Burr says, teasing lightly.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you at work today?” Hamilton asks.
Burr smiles, glad that Hamilton is finally listening. “Yes. Work.”
That is the total cost of getting a concealed-carry permit in my state (Illinois).
$250 for a 16-hour course (which I will tell you now, I can teach in about an hour), plus a $150, non-refundable “application fee.”
Both of these fees are non-refundable, and do not guarantee that I will be allowed to CC a firearm, subject to a closed review by state police. I am not allowed to appeal, to receive a reason why or inquire as to why, if I am denied.
I am also forced to wait 2-6 months due to no other reason than bureaucracy.
If you include the time I’m wasting at the 16-hour course, using my normal going rate, that’s another $300.
Then I have to pay a FFL for a transfer ($30, thankfully since I know a nicer gentleman who runs a FFL out of his home; normally this is more like $45) as well as shipping, since legislation has destroyed competition in the market, and thereby raised local prices.
Since I’ll want a pistol that’s relatively reliable, I’ll end up spending about $300-500 minimum on a pistol, not including holster, self defense ammo, and range time.
A minimum of $1000 to be able to legally defend myself; $400 of which is literally just paperwork, and the kicker; I can’t legally concealed carry if I take any trains, public transport, or go almost anywhere in the city.
I also am not legally allowed to utilize a laser-sight (which would improve my per-shot accuracy and ability to be accurate under stress) on my concealed pistol.
I implore anyone, if they can, to explain to me how any of the above is reasonable.
So, I was rewatching “Pressure Test” and at one point I had
to slap my knee and laugh, saying out loud “Corrupt small-town sheriff is at it
I don’t know if the writing staff is just sloppy, if they
are trying to indicate that Noah Stilinski has memory problems, or if they want
to paint Teen Wolf’s only sheriff as some sort of raging hypocrite because they
want to woobify his son, but there is a point where I think we have to address the
nepotic elephant in the room.
So, Tierney and Jiang, after watching their pack slaughtered
by hunters, driven from their homes and pursued, watch their alpha get murdered,
claim self-defense in turning the tables and attacking
hunters whose names they learned. They’ve
been arrested; the sheriff insists that they be held for trial, no matter that there is a lynch mob outside.
Scott: “It was
The Law-Abiding Sheriff (paraphrase): “I still have two dead
bodies. There are rules I have to
So far, so good right?
So how did Stiles’ trial go?
Because the Sheriff had a confession and a dead Donovan in a drawer, and
it’s the same situation. If it’s not
the sheriff’s place to determine if the killings were justified or not, it
holds true in either case.
So what happened at Stiles’ trial? (And yes, I know it’s probably crappy
writing, but at some point you have to take what you are given.) Just kidding, you and I both know there was
no trial. I wonder what reason the
sheriff gave for not holding his son to the same standard.
1) It’s my son!
2) Donovan wasn’t human, so he doesn’t get the full
protection under the law, not like the hunters.
3) Jiang and Tierney weren’t white males hiding their
terrible boy pain behind sarcasm and a complete disregard for other people.
Then the sheriff has the nerve to lecture Scott the same way
every other villain on Teen Wolf has lectured Scott, that once the bullets
start flying, it’s kill or be killed.
Like any good law enforcement officer should.
This showed up in my news feed. There was a lot of text to go with it which I wanted to omit since this post will likely be pretty long. This is a new criminal identification spray that is thick and sticky. When sprayed in the face it dyes the skin. It takes several days for the dye to begin to fade and about a week before it goes away so a potential attacker can be easily spotted for days after the spray is used on them.
This spray is perfectly legal to carry in the UK as it only stains the skin instead of causing severe irritation like pepper spray. What I get from this is that while it makes your face as red as a baboon’s ass it won’t actually hurt you therefore it won’t likely do a whole lot to stop you. This is what really makes me mad about UK self defense laws. If someone is trying to harm you it is against the law to harm them in order to defend yourself. Unless this dye can actually blind your attacker what’s to stop them from stabbing you? Getting spotted the next day with dye on their face won’t do anything to save your life when it’s being threatened.
I haven’t looked into this product so it’s entirely possible I am missing something and I really hope I am. Identifying a criminal is a great idea but we still need effective ways to defend victims when they are attacked.
(I’m assuming if you mean that the other person punches the Nazi FIRST, because yes; by doing that you’re only endangering yourself and allowing the Nazi to get away with hurting you by law under self-defense laws. Not worth it. You also shouldn’t be trading fists for words in the first place.)