Back
in college, I was friends with this Jewish girl from New York with a
thick nasal accent who completely didn't understand my sense of
humor. I was young and stupid back in college, thinking I could be
friends with uptight asses and, even worse, wasting my time speaking
and being humorous. I know much better now than to think the average
white chick could ever actually be my friend, but I digress.
So,
Judina [not real name] had never had a Dominican friend – and I'm
100% certain that neither her nor any of the white women I attended
Yale with have any close minority friends of a working-class
background – so it was only logical that the Dominican tendency to
exaggerate and tell jokes in a serious manner completely struck her
as “deception.” Instead of telling me directly that she felt I
had lied to her, Judina took the typical white girl route and simply
told everyone around her what she thought about me: “Once a liar,
always a liar,” she told my roommates and my roommate's girlfriend,
ad infinitum.
I
was outraged when the comment made its way back to me, and after
Junior year I simply closed myself off and stopped hanging out with
her clique. Her words basically let me know that she doesn't believe
in the ability of people to change, but worse of all, it told me that
she completely didn't understand me. To add insult to injury, I felt
betrayed because although I may have told tall tales, I grew up in
the Bronx, a place where you don't talk smack about someone behind
their back unless you wanna get shanked in the cafeteria lunch line.
But
in that cultural difference was the inability of us to get along: she
felt deceived because I told her a story which may have not been 100%
factual, while I felt betrayed because she talked smack about me
behind my back.
Which
takes us to the present, one in which Judina is a lawyer. Does she
still believe that “once a liar, always a liar?”
If
she does, then I would like for her to examine the details of a case
in which I was involved here in the Netherlands. In that case, an
officer purposely mistranslated what I had told her, completely setting me up
so I would have to answer questions before a police rector – the
individual just below a judge in Dutch jurisprudence – and
potentially face 1,000 euro fine.
After
all, if a cop is willing to falsify a statement against a US citizen
with a Yale degree, what wouldn't she be willing to do to a poor
Moroccan who can't afford to voice his victimization in an
international platform which is read by Yale graduates and
professors!?
The
fact is that Officer Cheesecunt felt I was lying to her and decided
to take the law into her own hands. In the same way that Judina could
be certain that I had told tall stories before I met her, I'm certain
that Officer Cheesecunt has fabricated allegations against other
suspects.
However,
I come from the Bronx, a place where you either stand up the first
time someone steps on you, or you get stepped on forever. For this
reason, I have hired Willem Jebbinks, the top free speech lawyer in
the Netherlands, and have decided that I am willing to go to prison
in the name of what is right, namely telling everyone my story.
I hope that any suspect who has had
previous dealings with Officer Cheesecunt comes forward and reveals
how she falsified statements against them.
Just
this summer, Mitch Henriques, a Caribbean tourists, was brutally
strangled by Dutch officers who later falsified statements about how
his death came about.
Has
Officer Cheesecunt ever been involved in the death of anyone? How
many men has she helped to wrongly convict? I'm willing to bet that
the number is shocking.
On the 30th of September, I'm supposed to be interrogated by Officer [censored] of the Amsterdam police. He will ask me if I wrote an offensive article about Officer Cheesecunt, this in a country that prides itself on free speech. What Officer [censored] doesn't realize is that the more they squeeze their grip, the more I will write. Officer Cheesecunt can expect me to write a book about her life and entire family background. Only death can stop me!
On the 30th of September, I'm supposed to be interrogated by Officer [censored] of the Amsterdam police. He will ask me if I wrote an offensive article about Officer Cheesecunt, this in a country that prides itself on free speech. What Officer [censored] doesn't realize is that the more they squeeze their grip, the more I will write. Officer Cheesecunt can expect me to write a book about her life and entire family background. Only death can stop me!
