Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to make it home with a bag of Skittles and iced tea. In this case, it’s the neighborhood watchman who self destructed. BTW: I’m not saying that Tom Cruise is short in stature. However, I am guessing the camera was set on the ground to take this picture.
The entire act of wearing a “hoodie” (the first time I heard that term was from a wildly gay barista in Seattle. It sounds no less gay today even when said by the most hetero of individuals. Like me.) has been morphed into some sort of protest against racially motivated violence. Me? I wear a hoodie (gay) whenever I go to convenience stores. You know, when I buy skittles, ice tea, and assorted VHS pornography from behind the counter (what can I say, I love the look of analog. I’m a videophile, which means I molest VCRs. I think. Where’s my DSM-IV?) I was promised a race war. You gave me a blurry security footage of a maybe/maybe not bruised Zimmerman. I was promised burning buildings, you gave me a clip of audio where Zimmerman calls the victim a racial perjurative. Or he’s complaining about the temperature. I was promised a movie called “Neighborhood Watch,” but it’s been changed to simply “The Watch.” Look, assholes. I need a trial. I need a trial that at least appears fair. I need an acquittal, and I need riots. Not in Portland, you know… elsewhere. With lots of CNN cameras. I’m not a monger of violence… there’s just nothing good on TV during the summer.
