The American people have spoken, and they chose Donald Trump as the next president of the United States. Here’s how the OneVote Student Mock Election results compare to the outcome of the 2016 General Election results.
With liberty and justice for all J-j-j-justice for all?
[Verse 1: Bibi Bourelly (Usher) Together ] I'mma get mine, you should get yours too Shooting, shooting, shooting, man them boys always shoot (American dream, American man too) Shooting, shooting, shooting, watch them boys always shoot (And I-I-I-I been so tired of being insecure So tired of) I've had enough running Running, and running and running and running (Running) Running, and running and running and running and (Running enough) Just give it up I don't give a fuck I've had enough Y'all give a fuck? No Light it on fire I've had enough Running, and running and running and running Running, and running and running and running and
[Hook: Usher & Bibi Bourelly] You act like the change Tryna put me in chains Don't act like you saving us It's still the same Man don't act like I made it up You blaming us Let's keep it one hundred You gave the name to us Nigga We still in chains We still in chains We still in chains We still in chains We still in chains We still in chains We still in chains You put the shame on us
[Post-Hook: Usher & Bibi Bourelly] Now, now, now shame on us Now Now, now, now shame on us Now, now, now
[Verse 2: Usher (Bibi Bourelly) Together] Moment of silence American school and we in church too (Don't shoot) Shooting, shooting, shooting, we the prey Always shoot (Prey) I'mma be trill, you should be trill too You don't even gotta talk we just shoot And I feel so tired of being insecure Just give it up Don't give a fuck Light it on fire
[Verse 3: Nas] Yeah, yo check I am Sugar Ray Robinson, Booker T. Washington W. E. B. Du Bois, I'm the modern one Yelling at Senators, Presidents, Congressmen We got a problem that needs some acknowledgement I am no prison commodity, not just a body you throw in a cell For any reason, just to bother me Just for your quota, so it's rest in peace to Sean Bell Sleep in peace Eric Garner (Sandra) Every street, every corner Conspiracy, new world order I spoke to Tamir Rice mom and she told me "be strong" It won't be long 'til it's justice They won't have votes but refuse the discussion On how certain cops they shoot us for nothing Revolution is coming
[Hook: Usher (Nas) Together] You act like the change (The land of opportunity) Tryna put me in chains (The land of Unity) Don't act like you saving us (Brotherhood, trust) It's still the same (America) Man don't act like I made it up You blaming us (You know) Let's keep it one hundred You gave the name to us Nigga We still in chains (Hey so what up my nigga?) We still in chains We still in chains You see these chains? We still in chains I can't see We still in chains The difference from how we used to be We still in chains We still in chains You put the shame on us
WARNING: The audio of this story contains graphic descriptions of violence and this web post contains a graphic photograph.
In 2009, Alex Landau was a student at Community College of Denver. After a traffic stop one night, he was severely beaten by Denver Police officers.
Alex is African American. He was adopted by a white couple and he grew up in largely white, middle-class suburbs of Denver.
Alex and his mother, Patsy Hathaway, came to StoryCorps to talk about how Alex’s race has influenced his life and what happened that night when police pulled him over.
In 2011, Alex was awarded a $795,000 settlement from the City of Denver.
Two of the officers involved have since been fired from the Denver Police Department for other incidents.
Click here to watch “Traffic Stop,” Alex’s story told as a StoryCorps animated short.
Originally aired August 15, 2014, on NPR’s Morning Edition.
Above photo of Alex Landau taken the night of January 15, 2009, courtesy of Alex Landau.
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang’d to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visag’d war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front; And now,–instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,– He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I,–that am not shap’d for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform’d, unfinish’d, sent before my time Into this breathing world scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;– Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity: And therefore,–since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days,– I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, To set my brother Clarence and the king In deadly hate the one against the other: And if King Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew’d up,– About a prophecy which says that G Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul.
