👤

@missmikeyb They should have an extra fee on their ticket 😂

They the ones that’s gonna pay $1500😂😂😂

@viaTheHeart 😂😂😂 really is, whole city trying to get tickets

@___G45 bro i’m sick this is like the hunger games

I will catch these resale tickets like idk why I thought I could rumble with bots

Got my tickets we good 😂

If you weren’t here for the blizzard of 96 you can’t buy Jay Z tickets

@Upfost You valid 😂

@___G45 I was 4 yrs old does that count?

Just applied for a job at Yankee Stadium. I’m making it to that Hov show by any means necessary.

@5THCONSCIOUS Deadass 😂😂 look how many people I have ahead of me

@___G45 Lmaooooo

michael jackson’s funeral was on my 11th birthday and my parents were so distraught, they almost forgot to take me to the water park and my dad got hurt on the first slide and by the time we got out of medical it started raining and i just fell to my knees and started crying and swore i would hate him forever but in the car ride home i heard human nature and forgave him instantly

Kids today will never get to hear Bob Seger belt “Like a Rock” for a 90s Chevy truck commercial. Peak America culture

L M F A O

Where it all began. The birth of the Austin 3:16 promo. #316Day

Bubba burgers are $27 a pack roc nation you will crumble

@francemothers Deadass had me shook 😂

@___G45 that movie traumatized meeee bad

This part was mad scary, this one and the dolls

@viaTheHeart I took my years to watch it again after i first saw it, had mad nightmares 😂😂

@___G45 I still cannot watch this movie to this day. saw it on vhs as a child and never wanted to pop that tape back in again

There were 215 unmarked graves discovered on the property of a Mississippi county jail because of this woman’s search for her missing son: pbs.org/newshour/amp/s…

Dyshan Best came home to Bridgeport, Connecticut to bury a friend. He was 39. A truck driver. He never made it home from the funeral. What you've seen in the headlines is a story about a police officer's anxiety attack. That is not what this story is about. It starts with a chaotic scene. Roughly thirty people. A fight. Someone called 911 and said some of them had guns. Police arrived. Dyshan Best wasn't fighting. He was sitting in a parked car. Passenger seat. A drink. A vape pen. His phone. A witness pointed toward the car. That was enough. Officer Perrotta walked over and opened the door. No warrant. No crime observed. When she mentioned a firearm, Best pointed out through the windshield, away from himself, and said the gun was somewhere else. Then he ran. Officer Heo chased him. Dyshan Best was shot in the back. On the ground: "I got shot." The officer: "You pulled a gun on me." Best: "No I didn't." The state ruled the shooting justified. The family's attorney has filed a $40 million lawsuit, saying new video evidence shows conclusively Best was unarmed. The inspector general disputes this. The gun recovered near where Best fell has not been confirmed as his in any public reporting. That dispute is ongoing. But here's what this post is saying plainly: It does not matter. Best was a passenger in a parked car, stopped without a warrant, without an observed crime. Connecticut is a concealed carry state; possessing a firearm with a permit is a legal right. The state never established his permit status. The inspector general's report, by available accounts, did not ask. And even Best's own attorney, who disputes the gun entirely, made the structural point most clearly: "I don't care if you see someone running down the street with a gun. If there's no felony you can articulate, you let them run. You don't chase people down and shoot them in the streets." Whatever was or wasn't in his hand, that remains true. The bullet tore through his liver and right kidney. The kind of injury where minutes matter. The first ambulance arrived at 6:02 p.m. Dispatch had labeled the call: stab / gunshot / penetrating trauma. Multiple officers on scene told the paramedics to take their partner first. Officer Perrotta got in. Then she declined treatment. Her words, recorded in the paramedics' official report: "I am fine. I just needed to get out of here." Not injured. Not treated. She simply wanted to leave. The ambulance drove away. 6:02 p.m. — First ambulance arrives. Diverted to Perrotta. 6:08 p.m. — Perrotta reaches hospital. Declines treatment. 6:22 p.m. — Best reaches hospital. 14 minutes later. 7:41 p.m. — Dyshan Best is pronounced dead. The inspector general could not determine whether the delay contributed to his death. No charges were filed. The department will investigate itself. The headline called this an officer's "mild anxiety attack." That framing matters. It takes a coordinated decision by multiple officers: documented in the paramedics' own records, and converts it into one person's medical episode. It makes a choice look like a condition. And "mild" cannot survive contact with Perrotta's own words. She wasn't in crisis. She said so herself. The headline also doesn't name Dyshan Best. Doesn't mention he was Black. Doesn't mention Perrotta was white. Doesn't mention she declined treatment. A man is dead. The headline made sure you'd remember the officer's feelings instead. Nothing in this sequence required a conspiracy. Every step reflects a system that has operated this way for generations — one built not to protect communities equally, but to protect order, property, and existing arrangements of power. People ask how to fix policing. But this story raises a different question. If a dying Black man can be left bleeding on pavement while officers secure a comfortable exit for one of their own, and the state clears it, and the press softens it, perhaps this isn't a malfunction. Perhaps the system is functioning exactly as it was built to. His name was Dyshan Best. He came home to bury a friend. He never made it back from the funeral.