You can’t be me bitch fucking punk

#nieuweprofielfoto

Rey sagriento

Each of the eleven lives lost on that boat—sons, daughters, brothers, sisters—were not just statistics. They were families whose futures were washed away, dreams drowned in the sea. According to reports from [source: UN / local authorities], these were eleven Venezuelans, young

Eleven. Eleven human beings. Gone. Not numbers. Not statistics. Lives. Sons. Daughters. Brothers. Sisters. Families. And why? Because somewhere, in an office with polished wood and cold marble, men in suits signed papers. Sanctions. Pressure. Punishment. And they called it

Eleven. Eleven souls torn from the earth. Eleven families condemned to eternal silence. Not by fate. Not by chance. But by will. By design. By the cold machinery of power that sits in Washington and calls itself righteous. You call yourselves a nation of freedom? A beacon of

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury… We began with eleven lives. Eleven. Do not forget that number. Do not let it fade into abstraction. Each one a world. Each one a universe of love, of laughter, of promise. And each one extinguished. The defense will say it was tragedy. They

Eleven lives. Eleven losses. Eleven graves without peace. Not an accident. Not fate. Not chance. A choice. A policy. A hand signing death with ink instead of blood. Eleven mothers waiting for doors that never open. Eleven fathers staring at empty chairs. Eleven families torn

Eleven lives! Eleven stolen futures! Not statistics — not numbers — but flesh, blood, love, and family! And yet — they are gone. Not by storm. Not by fate. But by decision. By design. By deliberate cruelty dressed up as policy! The defense wants you to look away. To call it

ADDRESS TO THE SUPREME COURT Your Honors, we stand in the temple of law, where marble columns rise to the heavens and justice is supposed to echo like thunder. But tell me — where was that justice when eleven Venezuelans drowned, not by accident, not by fate, but by the

Your Honors… what an august sight you are. Black robes. Marble halls. Words like justice carved in stone, as if stone could hide the rot beneath. We are told this Court is the guardian of liberty. The shield of the people. And yet — here we are, with eleven Venezuelans dead,

Ah, the Supreme Court. The altar of justice. The grand stage where words are polished, robes are pressed, and verdicts are wrapped like gifts no one ever opens. And here you sit, cloaked in solemn dignity, as if marble could make you holy. As if a Latin motto above your heads

Your Honors… what a sight. The highest court in the land. Robes flowing, columns rising, Latin carved in stone. Fiat justitia ruat caelum — “Let justice be done though the heavens fall.” How noble. How poetic. And how utterly laughable. Because eleven Venezuelans have already

This Court does not serve justice — it buries it. Shame on you America I thought America stood for justice but hell no Barack Obama something is clearly wrong Camila Vallejo Dowling

•Justice did not drown with the victims — it drowned here, in your silence. •You punish the hungry for stealing bread, but reward the powerful for stealing lives. •The sea was innocent; the court is guilty. •Your robes are black not for dignity, but for mourning the death of

Bravo, Your Honors — you’ve proven justice can drown without even getting wet. •How noble: you cage thieves of bread, but toast murderers in suits. •The sea took their bodies, but you took their dignity. •Your blindfold isn’t justice — it’s cowardice stitched in silk. •If

Justice is dead here, buried beneath your robes, your gavels, and your excuses — and the world is watching you clap for the murderers. Barack Obama

The eleven who drowned? They are in paradise, free at last. And you? You sit in marble halls, alive, but morally bankrupt, haunted by every drop of water you let drown their lives. Barack Obama Sen. Tammy Baldwin