the image of an angel is an angel

Looking back at the 1992 Los Angeles riots, people often remember tensions between African-Americans, white law enforcement officers and Korean small business owners. That story gets even more complicated when you step into Pico-Union — a neighborhood that was, and still is, predominantly Latino.

In the wake of the Rodney King verdict, riots broke out around the city. The first day, they erupted in South Central; by the second, they had spread north to Pico-Union. And while people all over the city had to deal with looting, fires, and general chaos, many residents of Pico Union had to deal with an additional fear — the threat of deportation.

Mike Hernandez was the neighborhood’s city councilman in 1992. He said that in the 25 years since the riots, Pico-Union hasn’t changed that much. The area is still more than 80 percent Latino, with lots of immigrant families from Mexico and Central America. And, in 1992, a majority of Pico-Union constituents were living below the poverty line in crowded conditions. Hernandez said he knew long before the riots started that Pico-Union was just as combustible as South Central LA. “We had twice the density here of Manhattan,” Hernandez said. “And our fire station here, Fire Station 11, was the busiest fire station in the nation.”

But in the midst of the burning and looting, Hernandez said the few law enforcement officers who made it to Pico-Union were not protecting and serving. He partially blamed it on the fact that in the early 1990s, “Latino” was often synonymous with “illegal” in California. In a 1992 interview, he told NPR that his request for reinforcement during the unrest didn’t get him the results he wanted. “The response to me when I said I needed the National Guard to protect the people of the area and I needed to protect the businesses and protect the homes, they gave me the Border Patrol. It was totally an insult,” he said.

As Los Angeles Burned, The Border Patrol Swooped In

Photo: Gary Leonard/Corbis via Getty Images

i’m in my prime,
not withering and old.
but i refuse to play
your wicked games any longer.

i know this tether is unbreakable,
but you make me feel like i’m interchangeable.
you drew a target on my heart,
when did this become fatal attraction?

i don’t have the strength,
the energy,
nor the patience
to be held hostage by your love.

so baby please don’t despair
when i say that
i’ve found the courage to
let you go.

you were never meant to be tied down in the first place.

—  believing i could love you was my mistake, c.j.n.

Twenty-five years ago this week, four Los Angeles policemen — three of them white — were acquitted of the savage beating of Rodney King, an African-American man. Caught on camera by a bystander, graphic video of the attack was broadcast into homes across the nation and worldwide.

Fury over the acquittal — stoked by years of racial and economic inequality in the city — spilled over into the streets, resulting in five days of rioting in Los Angeles. It ignited a national conversation about racial and economic disparity and police use of force that continues today.

“When the verdict came out, it was a stunner for people coast to coast. My jaw dropped,” says Jody David Armour, a criminal justice and law professor at the University of Southern California.

When LA Erupted In Anger: A Look Back At The Rodney King Riots

Photo: Ron Eisenbeg/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

The Effect of Music, Prayer & Words on Water by Dr. Masaru Emoto:

Keeping in mind our bodies are 65% water.
You are what you tell yourself you are.
You are what you tell others they are.
Thoughts truly become things… choose good ones!

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Went shopping today I’m kinda happy that I did I had a lot of fun ⛅️💕

okay to reblogplease don’t reblog if you’re a creepy man or a porn blog only want cute girls and nice compliments
A Deal With The Devil

The deal was simple, we’d get to ask him a couple of questions and he got to ask us a couple of questions. A bit odd if you ask me. What could The Devil possibly want to know from us? I couldn’t tell you.

“Is heaven real?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice like dying embers in a fireplace, “and so is hell.”

“Who goes to heaven?”

“Whoever God wants there.”

“I’m afraid that’s much too vague for us.”

“What’s that like?” he asked, his eyes perking up.

“I’m sorry?”

“What’s it like to be afraid?”

A bit confused, I tried my best to describe the feeling of fear. My explanation was a bit clumsy but he appeared to be satisfied with it.

“Why’d you want to know that?” I asked.

“Because when God made me, he didn’t give me the ability to feel fear. I can’t feel lots of things.”

“What can you feel?”

“Pain.”

I got us back on track.

“Can you elaborate on your answer from before? About heaven?”

“Of course. Heaven is open to all of God’s creations, whatever they do.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. When I was called in, the people in charge told me that my primary objective was to secure information on how humanity could get to heaven. With that sorted, anything else I gathered was a bonus.

“Are you going to heaven too? Since you were created by God,” I asked.

“I could, but I won’t,” he replied.

“Why?”

“Because I committed the most egregious sin. I did something only God was supposed to do.”

“What’s that?”

“I tried to create angels. They didn’t work out. My angels were made in my image, so I guess I’m to blame. All they do is cause suffering and destruction, so God said they had to go to hell, to suffer for an eternity”

“You mean the demons?”

“Yes, I guess I do. I couldn’t go to heaven, not while my creations were suffering. So I decided that when the time came, I would travel to hell and suffer with them.”

“Why?”

“Because I love them.”

I checked my watch, “Time’s almost up.”

“Yes it is.” he replied.

“I have to go back and get debriefed.” I said, preparing to leave the facility. “They’ll be ecstatic when they get the good news.”

“And what might that be?”

“That no matter what we do, we’re going to heaven.”

“But you’re not, or anyone else for that matter.”

“But,” I said, my voice wavering, “You said…”

“Yes, I know what I said my child. But you’re not one of God’s creations,” he said with a tone I would mistake for sadness if I didn’t know better,

“You’re one of mine.”