[…] Late last Wednesday, the Georgia Senate passed a motion to have Pulitzer and his team go through the ballots there.
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17 Comments on Jovan Pulitzer’s Team Is Being Shot At
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The Left is serious about getting their way, and not afraid to do what it takes to get it.
I think it time to lynch some of those commie bastards and leave em hanging in the town square as an example!
That’s the night that the lights went out in Georgia.
Probably off-duty Fulton County Sheriff’s deputies. I’m telling you, they’re some corrupt m——rf——rs, headed by Sheriff Ted Jackson, who used to work in FBI HQ. Watch out, patriots.
The correct approach to dealing with these traitors is to start at the top and work your way down!
With the top echelon dispatched the minions will buckle and yield.
Is there a police report about this somewhere?
@Is there a police report about this somewhere?”
Good question. Maybe APD. Not if the Fulton County Sheriff investigated, though.
And election patriots…maybe you should have random friends drive you around for a while.
Full disclosure: I had a run-in with the Fulton County Sheriffs Dept. thirty years ago, when I worked downtown near the courthouse. It turned out to be a pretty funny story in the end, but at the time it was scary. If anybody wants to hear it, I’ll tell it.
Anyhow, I hope the current scary FCSD story turns out funny as well.
Not even newsworthy.
Now if one of Pulitzer’s team had worn blackface, that’s the kind of story that leads the news.
We are never going to be able to live with these people. Separate or there is going to be war.
Like i’m going to led by some sniveling tranny who demands that babies be killed with gov’t money and trannies by trannied by gov’t money and on and on and on, …..but i’m not allowed to talk.
They can esad.
Thirdtwin – spill it.
This is more of a GBI investigation, isn’t it? Since the shooter is trying to stop an investigation of a federal nature. I know Jovan isn’t doing it for the state, but come on. If I’m looking into federal shit and I get shot at- I’m gonna demand more than the city and county slobs to do the investigating.
Liberal violence has been SOP in America for at least 61 years. When The Press called vicious liberal attacks “peaceful protests” and basically got away with the lie because only those actually seeing the liberal attacks knew it was FAKE NEWS! With the net we can all see the liberals burning down buildings. But liberals have lie for centuries. Liberals – naming names Bush – still call the attacks “l[protests”!
dIf you openly back kAmerica you nee to be armed, well armed, the liberals will try to kill you. Likely police will not protect Americans.
Since the police are now known to stand down when the political heat is on, maybe we’ll have to penny up for private security, if we want justice to prevail and not have the truth go up in gun smoke.
Okay, MJA, here goes….
In the Summer of 1990, I was working in the pressroom of the Fulton County Daily Report. I had worked there for over a year, and it was hot, dirty work producing small commercial print jobs during the morning and then printing and delivering the legal newspaper for lawyers all over the state. It was twelve hour days M-F, and sometimes Saturdays. I grew to hate it. During my time there I had met this black dreadlocked former marine from South Carolina who was putting together a reggae band. I started playing with them in the Spring of 1990, part time on weekends as my job would allow.
Then we started lining up regular out-of-town gigs in beach towns, and the money was going to be good, so I gave notice at work. On my last day, a Friday, I was bopping down Pryor Street, coming back from lunch, wearing my press uniform pants and a wife-beater (July, Atlanta). I was thinking about nothing but my imminent freedom and beach bars four nights a week.
As I crossed the crosswalk, moving fast, and passed a big, fat black Sheriff’s deputy on the corner, I noticed a crowd of people on the courthouse steps, and I wondered what was going on. Right about then, I heard huffing and puffing, and big flat feet slapping the sidewalk behind me, and my wife-beater was ripped apart at the shoulders from behind, leaving me suddenly shirtless. The deputy yelled at me, with the back of my shirt still in his hand, “I told you to stop!! What the hell do you think you’re doing??!!” To which I angrily replied, “I’m walking down the goddam sidewalk!
Suddenly, there were two more deputies, and I was quickly handcuffed. The big fat one grabbed the front of pants on the belt and dragged me down the sidewalk in front of the crowd on the courthouse steps, and then I saw why the crowd was on the steps: They were unloading prisoners from a bus and through a lower level door, into the courthouse for trial, and they didn’t want any people near the prisoners. The last of the prisoners had just passed through the door, and a minute later, I was being dragged through the same door.
I was taken to some room with a table and chairs, set down in a chair, and various deputies came in and looked over the zoo animal fatso had dragged in. They asked fatso what I’d done and he told them I had assaulted him and threatened him. I just sat there quietly. There were newspapers on the table, and I attempted to pull one near to pretend to read it. One of the deputies told me I was in big trouble and grabbed the paper from in front of me. I asked when I would get to call my lawyer. Another deputy asked where I worked and I told him I worked at the legal paper.
Suddenly, a deputy called fatso out of the room, and there was some conversation in low voices in the hall. Fatso came in, huffed and puffed, handed me a citation for the trumped-up charges, told me to appear in court the following Monday morning, took off the cuffs and dumped me out on the sidewalk with the two halves of my shirt.
I went back to worked and told the editor what happened. He gave me the name of the FCSD Internal Affairs captain, and told me where to find him. I went back and asked to speak to him, but it was Friday afternoon, and of course he was gone.
That night, I told my buddy in the band what happened, and he said he’d gone to law school, the sudden court date sounded fishy and he’d go to court with me.
We showed up Monday morning, and were sitting in the courtroom waiting. A minute before court was supposed to start, fatso showed up and told me to come with him out of the courtroom. My “lawyer” followed us out and fatso asked who he was. I told him that was my lawyer. Fatso then said my case had been removed from the docket, but if I ever made any more noise about it, the case would be reinstated. What a bunch of bullshit. Then he said I was free to go.
Two years later, after the band gig was over, I was working for another printing operation, and I was going to pick up some artwork on the southside, when I came upon some roadwork that had a lane closed, Our lane got the go-ahead, and as I passed the flagman, it was fatso! Still a deputy, but holding a stop sign, miles from his previous cushy job downtown. And this time when I passed him, he couldn’t rip the shirt off my back.
LOLOL!!! Oh dude, your story has EVERYTHING.
Love it.
Thirdtwin – You shoulda stopped and told him:
“they can get a bucket of sand to to hold that sign these days!”
@TRF – Why get a bucket of sand when they had a bucket of shit to hold the sign?
Hey Third Twin…Looks like that asshole STILL has a union job! You should have run his over and claimed PTSD! Of course I wouldn’t do that….I’d have just shot his fat ass and claimed PTSD! 🙂