Thing that kills me is I know Cleveland. He was on the east side of the city, which is arguably the most "dangerous" part of Cleveland. He could've went to E. 117th and Sellers where them boys stand outside the corner store. He could've went to South Collinwood on Mandalay and Stevenson where that corner house always has 10-15 dudes hanging out on the porch and front yard. He could've went to East Cleveland on Knowles where some of the most vicious fuckers in the city hang out. Nope.
He went after a helpless old man. Fucking coward.
Apparently now they put up a $50,000 reward for any information leading to his capture. I'd like to see it end differently. Regardless, as long as they get him off the streets.
He went after a helpless old man. Fucking coward.
Apparently now they put up a $50,000 reward for any information leading to his capture. I'd like to see it end differently. Regardless, as long as they get him off the streets.
“Love is the only bow on Life’s dark cloud. It is the morning and the evening star. It shines upon the babe, and sheds its radiance on the quiet tomb. It is the mother of art, inspirer of poet, patriot and philosopher.
It is the air and light of every heart – builder of every home, kindler of every fire on every hearth. It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody – for music is the voice of love.
Love is the magician, the enchanter, that changes worthless things to Joy, and makes royal kings and queens of common clay. It is the perfume of that wondrous flower, the heart, and without that sacred passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts; but with it, earth is heaven, and we are gods.” - Robert. G. Ingersoll
It is the air and light of every heart – builder of every home, kindler of every fire on every hearth. It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody – for music is the voice of love.
Love is the magician, the enchanter, that changes worthless things to Joy, and makes royal kings and queens of common clay. It is the perfume of that wondrous flower, the heart, and without that sacred passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts; but with it, earth is heaven, and we are gods.” - Robert. G. Ingersoll
