timmy

BREAKING: The family of Alex Pretti releases a powerful statement about his senseless murder at the hands of Trump's masked fascist goons. Please share this far and wide... "We are heartbroken but also very angry. Alex was a kindhearted soul who cared deeply for his family and friends and also the American veterans whom he cared for as an ICU nurse at the Minneapolis VA hospital," the family said in a statement provided to CNN. "Alex wanted to make a difference in this world. Unfortunately he will not be with us to see his impact. I do not throw around the hero term lightly. However his last thought and act was to protect a woman." "The sickening lies told about our son by the administration are reprehensible and disgusting. Alex is clearly not holding a gun when attacked by Trump’s murdering and cowardly ICE thugs. He has his phone in his right hand and his empty left hand is raised above his head while trying to protect the woman ICE just pushed down all while being pepper sprayed." "Please get the truth out about our son. He was a good man. Thank you." It is our responsibility as Americans to get the truth out there. Petti was not attempting to harm anyone. He was swarmed, beaten, and disarmed by vicious federal agents who were looking for someone to hurt. Once they had removed his gun — which he had a legal permit to carry — they executed him in cold blood by firing numerous bullets into him. Then, the Trump administration proceeded to immediately falsely smear him as a "terrorist" who wanted to carry out a mass shooting against law enforcement. They're utterly shameless. “He cared about people deeply and he was very upset with what was happening in Minneapolis and throughout the United States with ICE, as millions of other people are upset,” said Pretti's father Alex. “He thought it was terrible, you know, kidnapping children, just grabbing people off the street. He cared about those people, and he knew it was wrong, so he did participate in protests.” Rest in power Alex. The rest of us will carry on the fight. Please like and share.

OccupyDemocrats's tweet photo. BREAKING: The family of Alex Pretti releases a powerful statement about his senseless murder at the hands of Trump's masked fascist goons.

Please share this far and wide...

"We are heartbroken but also very angry. Alex was a kindhearted soul who cared deeply for his family and friends and also the American veterans whom he cared for as an ICU nurse at the Minneapolis VA hospital," the family said in a statement provided to CNN.

"Alex wanted to make a difference in this world. Unfortunately he will not be with us to see his impact. I do not throw around the hero term lightly. However his last thought and act was to protect a woman."

"The sickening lies told about our son by the administration are reprehensible and disgusting. Alex is clearly not holding a gun when attacked by Trump’s murdering and cowardly ICE thugs. He has his phone in his right hand and his empty left hand is raised above his head while trying to protect the woman ICE just pushed down all while being pepper sprayed."

"Please get the truth out about our son. He was a good man. Thank you."

It is our responsibility as Americans to get the truth out there. Petti was not attempting to harm anyone. He was swarmed, beaten, and disarmed by vicious federal agents who were looking for someone to hurt. Once they had removed his gun — which he had a legal permit to carry — they executed him in cold blood by firing numerous bullets into him. Then, the Trump administration proceeded to immediately falsely smear him as a "terrorist" who wanted to carry out a mass shooting against law enforcement. They're utterly shameless.

“He cared about people deeply and he was very upset with what was happening in Minneapolis and throughout the United States with ICE, as millions of other people are upset,” said Pretti's father Alex. “He thought it was terrible, you know, kidnapping children, just grabbing people off the street. He cared about those people, and he knew it was wrong, so he did participate in protests.”

Rest in power Alex. The rest of us will carry on the fight.

Please like and share.

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timmy @miamitim

9 months ago

@BulwarkOnline https://t.co/eUcZqEKpIN

timmy @miamitim

9 months ago

@AnnieForTruth https://t.co/Yzijo83QdQ

miamitim retweeted

Mr PitBull Stories

@MrPitbull07

9 months ago

"Someone kept calling the radio station requesting the same song. For 114 days straight. I'm a DJ at K-Rock 98.3. Overnight shift. Midnight to 6 a.m. Mostly lonely truckers and insomniacs listening. Around 1:15 a.m. every single night, same number calls. Same request, "November Rain" by Guns N' Roses. Eight-minute guitar solo version. First week, I played it. Thought maybe someone really loved that song. Second week, I started screening the calls. "We just played that yesterday, how about something else?" "November Rain, please." "We have a no-repeat policy" Click. They'd hang up. But they'd call back the next night. 1:15 a.m. exactly. "November Rain." This went on for months. My coworkers thought it was hilarious. Started a betting pool on when the caller would give up. They never did. Day 47, "Look, buddy, what's the deal with this song?" Long silence. Then, "Just play it. Please." The voice sounded older. Male. Tired. I played it. Day 82, My manager told me to block the number. "It's harassment." I didn't block it. Day 91, I answered. Before they could speak, I said, "It's queued up. Playing at 1:30." "Thank you," they whispered. Day 114, The call came. But different voice. Younger. Female. "This is about the November Rain requests," she said. "My grandfather passed away this morning. He won't be calling anymore." My stomach dropped. "He had dementia," she continued. "Couldn't remember much. But he remembered that song. Said it was playing when he proposed to my grandmother in 1992. At some restaurant. She died five years ago. The song was the only piece of her he could still hold onto." She was crying. "He'd get confused at night. Agitated. The only thing that calmed him was that song. So I'd call you. Every night. He'd sit next to me, listening on the radio, and for eight minutes he'd remember her. He'd smile. Then forget again. But for those eight minutes....." I couldn't speak. "Thank you for playing it," she said. "Even when you were annoyed. Even when your manager wanted you to stop. Those eight minutes were everything to him." She hung up. I sat in that booth. Played "November Rain" at 1:15 a.m. Nobody requested it. I just played it. Did it again the next night. And every night since. Some listeners complained. "Why do you keep playing the same song?" I never explained. Just said, "Station policy." But truckers started calling in. Said they pulled over during that 1:15 a.m. slot. Listened to the whole eight minutes. Some knew why. Most didn't. One guy said, "I don't even like that song. But something about hearing it at 1:15 every night..... feels like church. Like we're all stopping together. For something." They were right. It's been six months. I still play it. Every single night. 1:15 a.m. Some things aren't about what you like. They're about what someone needed. Once. When nothing else worked. That song's not mine anymore. It belongs to an old man who forgot everything except how to love his wife. And now it belongs to everyone driving lonely highways at 1:15 a.m., looking for a reason to keep going. Eight minutes. Every night. That's my church now." Let this story reach more hearts.... . Ai image is for demonstration purpose only. . By Mary Nelson

MrPitbull07's tweet photo. "Someone kept calling the radio station requesting the same song. For 114 days straight.
I'm a DJ at K-Rock 98.3. Overnight shift. Midnight to 6 a.m. Mostly lonely truckers and insomniacs listening.
Around 1:15 a.m. every single night, same number calls. Same request, "November Rain" by Guns N' Roses. Eight-minute guitar solo version.

First week, I played it. Thought maybe someone really loved that song.
Second week, I started screening the calls. "We just played that yesterday, how about something else?"
"November Rain, please."
"We have a no-repeat policy"
Click. They'd hang up.

But they'd call back the next night. 1:15 a.m. exactly. "November Rain."
This went on for months. My coworkers thought it was hilarious. Started a betting pool on when the caller would give up.
They never did.

Day 47, "Look, buddy, what's the deal with this song?"
Long silence. Then, "Just play it. Please."
The voice sounded older. Male. Tired.
I played it.

Day 82, My manager told me to block the number. "It's harassment."
I didn't block it.

Day 91, I answered. Before they could speak, I said, "It's queued up. Playing at 1:30."
"Thank you," they whispered.

Day 114, The call came. But different voice. Younger. Female.
"This is about the November Rain requests," she said. "My grandfather passed away this morning. He won't be calling anymore."
My stomach dropped.
"He had dementia," she continued. "Couldn't remember much. But he remembered that song. Said it was playing when he proposed to my grandmother in 1992. At some restaurant. She died five years ago. The song was the only piece of her he could still hold onto."
She was crying. "He'd get confused at night. Agitated. The only thing that calmed him was that song. So I'd call you. Every night. He'd sit next to me, listening on the radio, and for eight minutes he'd remember her. He'd smile. Then forget again. But for those eight minutes....."
I couldn't speak.
"Thank you for playing it," she said. "Even when you were annoyed. Even when your manager wanted you to stop. Those eight minutes were everything to him."
She hung up.

I sat in that booth. Played "November Rain" at 1:15 a.m. Nobody requested it. I just played it.
Did it again the next night.
And every night since.

Some listeners complained. "Why do you keep playing the same song?"
I never explained. Just said, "Station policy."

But truckers started calling in. Said they pulled over during that 1:15 a.m. slot. Listened to the whole eight minutes. Some knew why. Most didn't.

One guy said, "I don't even like that song. But something about hearing it at 1:15 every night..... feels like church. Like we're all stopping together. For something."
They were right.

It's been six months. I still play it. Every single night. 1:15 a.m.
Some things aren't about what you like. They're about what someone needed. Once. When nothing else worked.

That song's not mine anymore. It belongs to an old man who forgot everything except how to love his wife.
And now it belongs to everyone driving lonely highways at 1:15 a.m., looking for a reason to keep going.
Eight minutes. Every night.
That's my church now."

Let this story reach more hearts....
.
Ai image is for demonstration purpose only.
.
By Mary Nelson

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timmy

@miamitim

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