Miami Beach police are cracking down on drivers blasting loud music from car stereos as they cruise around the city, part of a broader effort to address noise complaints and other disturbances in areas frequented by tourists.
In the interest of full disclosure I should mention that most of what I know about Miami comes from a Will Smith song and the time I was recruited by Thug U (this might not have actually happened). In any case, you better turn down Big Willie Style if you don't want to get in trouble with fascists who place the so-called "tourism industry" ahead of your inherent right to crank up that Bass Boy and/or Bass Cube.
Beginning this weekend, a special police detail will pull over cars for blaring music — and drivers who refuse to turn down the volume could wind up in handcuffs.
Expect lots of sovereign citizen videos where they explain to John Law that they're actually playing music and not "blaring" it and there's nothing the officer can do because it's not a commercial sound system, followed immediately by broken windows, tasing and being drug off in bracelets.
"We're going to afford violators in fairness one warning. After that they will be arrested and taken to jail," Miami Beach Police Chief Dan Oates told the City Commission on Wednesday evening.
If only this applied to all laws. "You get one free murder, but after that consider yourself on notice, pal."
Although a Miami-Dade County ordinance prohibiting cars from playing "unreasonably loud" music was already on the books, violators were not often arrested, said Miami Beach Police spokesman Ernesto Rodriguez.
There's also a law that allows cows to vote and one that forbids gambling on pinball, but don't expect any big comebacks with those.
A state law that enabled police to give drivers a ticket for loud music was struck down in 2012, leaving the county ordinance as the only legal tool for controlling the city's nighttime soundtrack.
We only have one lousy law when everyone knows you need thousands to keep society from descending into a savage battle royale.
For now, Miami Beach is starting with a small group of police officers tasked with patrolling for car noise violations, but the city plans to expand its efforts.
We're going to take everyone off arson, fraud and narcotics and move them to the "loud beats" division.
The loud thumping is not guaranteed to attract aspiring actresses.
"The goal is to have all of our officers citywide working and enforcing these types of violations and infractions."
Since there's no other crime, this should be easy.
All Miami Beach police officers should have a body camera by the end of May, Oates said, which will allow officers to record the warnings they give to drivers and document the volume of the music.
Well, at least they'll be forced to document this. Woofer Lives Matter.
The crackdown on cars playing loud music is one of a number of changes proposed by city officials. The City Commission is also considering a ban on scooter rentals during the month of March and on Memorial Day weekend.
This is terrible news, considering I already made a five figure payment on scooter rentals for March 2027, gambling that this investment would steadily gain value and I could then flip it for major profits.
Last time on Sovereign Citizens Getting Owned we met Wily Wonka's less successful but equally self-righteous younger brother, a hero of the common man swore impotently while getting cuffed, the Alabama T-1000 smashed a window and some crazy woman took over a house because possession is nine-tenths and all that. Now we're back after another long break (It's summer! There's warm weather, fun beach activities and I get to show off my arms in public!) and it just keeps getting better, I will assume based on no evidence whatsoever.
Either way, we hit the ground running with yet another Article Four Free Inhabitant running afoul of highway revenue collectors. Our new hero announces he's not turning off his "live stream," in a bizarre sing-song voice no less, all but giving us notarized proof of his membership in Generation Nothing. We're always "streaming" those misfortunes, we hold camera phones like protective amulets and generally use technology as a stand-in for old fashioned disassociative psychoses. He's also not going to obey the instructions of the jack boot squad, but you're a Sovereign Citizen and Free Man of the Land, so that was already implied. The more of a grueling and violent ordeal we can make this routine stop, the more we have stood up for our sacred freedom to drive like a lunatic or not bother with license plates, these being some of most basic rights given by nature and nature's God.
Soon to be the fifth face on Mount Rushmore.
The bespectacled traveler refuses a request to get out of the vehicle, claiming he "does not feel safe." It's pretty disappointing stuff, actually. This is the part where you're supposed to explain how your car isn't really a car and a treaty from 1745 gives you the right to run stop signs. Despite this breach of Free Man decorum the unseen officer promises a trip to the green bar motel if compliance isn't obtained. Forget you, man, it's totally worth it to spent time in the jug if it means I don't have to voluntarily open a car door. Or, "For resisting WHAT!?!" if you prefer.
But it's a lawful order! More like an awful order, right? Whoa man, far out. Is that freedom rock you're playing, by the way?
Sadly, the door is opened after some more threats and the best the defeated livestreamer can manage is timidly asking if the fascists would stop yelling. Now they broke you, man. Next thing you'll be talking about how much you love Big Brother. Anyway, here's your ticket, time to sign it like the meaningless corporate bar code you've become. "Why are you being so aggressive?" Well, I got the idea from a cheer I heard at a high school football game.
Bubble gum, bubble gum, pop pop pop, we think your Orwellian police state is a flop. Important note: pom poms may be required for this cheer, consult with your coach.
We don't get an answer to why the aggression is occurring. Instead, there's stereo demands to sign the ticket from both unseen stasi. More back and forth, plus there's some debate over a flashlight and the decision is finally made not to sign this contract with the devil after all. Yes! Down with the beast system! The fact that you briefly doubted yourself makes you more a hero, not less of one. Then the strong-arming and thuggery kicks off. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Tonight on "Arresting Joey Lawrence."
"Stop resisting!" Fade to black.
Without even pausing to reflect on the amazing morality play we just witnessed it's time for another confrontation with the so-called legitimate authorities. My professor told me to question everything and I accepted that uncritically. In this confrontation our identity figure is already under arrest, so we can skip the "Am I being detained?" foreplay and get to the good stuff (glass breaking, tasers, pitiful wailing, etc). A police dog (two legs bad, four legs even worse) apparently detected contraband in the means of travel and the Free Man now asks to confront the dog. I'm not even joking. For real, this happens. Who is a furry tool of tyranny? You are, boy! Yes, you are!
No pasaran, dog! Bad dog!
The discussion turns to the planned removal of the man who did nothing wrong from his conveyance, countered with more blanket denials of any wrong-doing. It's now time for what we all came for: the destruction of automotive windows. Sometimes I think the whole Sovereign Citizen movement was a psy-op created by Auto Glass Specialists to drive business their way. "Close your eyes!" Yup, here it comes baby. You ready for it? Uhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!
Our humble narrator adds an annotation stating he didn't see anything else because his eyes were closed. Will peek-a-boo prevent this ridiculous usurpation? We're about to find out. Using what looks like one of those little hammers a doctor employs to test your knee response, the faceless representative of totalitarian nightmares smashes the glass and then immediately deploys the taser! This is the Sovereign Citizens Getting Owned equivalent of the double jackpot. The blind guardian of freedom starts howling and I think I need a cigarette.
Hey, it's a quick update on the crazy lady who took over a house from last time! The fake news anchor informs us she's learning "how much time she'll spend behind bars" so I guess that whole "move into a house that's for sale and start living in it" master plan might have had some weaknesses. Still, our undocumented homeowner is claiming to be "Moorish-American" and that "laws don't apply to her" so I'm sure the judge will ignore the most basic first principles of property ownership that our entire civilization was built upon because she said the magic words.
For now, we're left in suspense.
Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.
I used to have a difficult time relating to the pathetic, broken losers who camp out waiting for a sequel to be released, wasting the precious gift of life anticipating an escapist fantasy that is sure to be a disappointment because of its inherent limitations. I guess I still do, but on the other hand I'm mad hype for the long-awaited second edition of sovereign citizens trying their "this is not the car without plates you're looking for" mind tricks only to suffer the ignominy of being "owned." With another forty-plus minutes to get through it looks like this will be my new Saturday night thing.
Unlike most Part Twos we don't waste any time catching the viewer back up or explaining the premise for newcomers. Instead we're already deep in the conflict between Free Men of the Land and the 1984 nightmare state as an unseen fascist politely asks for ihnen papiern, bitte. Of course, it can't be that easy, otherwise we might not get wrecked. Our full-faced hero of the pound-sign resistance explains that he's "the human being that owns the entity." Could this be the new word magic? Just call your car an "entity" like in one of those PG-13 horror films about hauntings and you should be off the hook. It's not like you're going to get your window broken or zapped with a taser or bracelets behind the back, that's for sure.
For all your traveling needs.
We get a request for insurance and, incredibly, compliance follows. Shouldn't you be citing the Articles of the Confederation at this point? Come on, man. He even shows his license to the friendly face of totalitarian evil! Just as I'm about to lose all hope (We are the dead, etc.) the officer notes that he's "never seen a license like this before?" Excuse me officer, but this License to Oogle is pretty standard issue and thoroughly legitimate. I also have a "Female Body Inspector" card if you need to see that.
We skip ahead, mercifully, to our anti-hero explaining that his narcotics are legitimate prescription Colorado Cools, and as such perfectly legal. Still he's "under arrest for marijuana." Meanwhile the goon squad slips on a black glove, no doubt in preparation for massive Constitutional violations. What about, like, my right to get nice and evenly baked? Is that even factoring into the decision process here?
I'm gonna need you to smell the glove.
Our identification figure continues to argue his "lawful right" to get blown, but it's clear this is a losing battle, what with the lack of case law from the eighteenth century being cited. No wonder they call it dope. The door is opened and the full-figured champion of the sacred freedoms of this land insists he isn't being arrested, despite considerable evidence to the contrary. The owning finally occurs as our hemp smoking friend is shoved into the side of the car with a satisfying "Ow!" Then it's back to insisting his Satan Weed is actually "medicinal" before being driven to the ground.
"I'm not resisting!" is said repeatedly while the Chong this generation deserves flops like a freshly landed halibut on the pavement. The cuffs are put on while he continues to rant ineffectually about his right to get lit. Another weedhead defeated, good work officer.
We jump to the next vignette, where our unseen narrator records a police car pulling up with obscene resignation. Heavy breathing follows. Seriously, we get a lengthy piece of video that is nothing but painful sounding huffing and puffing while the police state leisurely gets into position. Apparently the free citizen's own erratic behavior (walking into traffic, screaming, etc) provoked the arrival of the goon squad, a likely story. This is tyranny. Despite "not consenting to contact" the no-nonsense cop, I mean criminal with a badge, demands a "favor." I wonder how this will play out?
I bet this guy wants to hear all about admiralty law.
"Step away from the bag!" Meanwhile more officers are arriving. You wanted attention, now you have it. No one wants to discuss probable cause, and our cameraman is instead told to sit down. No way, beast system. I have a right to scream menacing nonsense at random passerby. Some barely legible red text on the screen provides a massive spoiler for what is about to happen (Assault!) and sure enough after trying to leave it's time to roll on the ground with help from the oppression squad. Sadly the camera got turned off by the officers during the struggle (how convenient!) and you'll just have to imagine the worst, I guess.
New scene, a Ford Truck from the distant past, before the average cab height was about ten feet in the air, disgorges a scruffy sovereign citizen. He's told to "stand at the front of the car" but comes back with an impressive "Why?" Checkmate, dictatorship.
Another rejected Travis Bickle audition.
Ford Truck Driver is told to "have a seat" on the car. What is it with gestapo wanting us to sit down, man? It's bad for the circulation, unlike my "medicine." The last free man complies, showing off his impressive mane of lightly washed hair and general slovenly appearance. Apparently this handsome rake was involved in a "hit and run" according to witnesses. How can I use my incorrect reading of the Mayflower Compact to get me out of this one? If your answer was speaking semi-coherently about who exactly made the allegations than congratulations, you share a mind with free man adult Chucky doll here.
We discuss the lack of communication and even call for a "rewind" while making the appropriate circular hand gestures. Then the disheveled traveler reaches in his pockets, prompting a stern rebuke. Now it's time to put those same hands on the hood, but the champion of the right to crash into someone and drive off actually has the stones to say "Shoot Me!" Yeah, if only.
He finally assumes the position, dropping some unseen item (A miniature Constitution? My legal joints? A non-legitimate license?) in the process. An attempt to open a forum on the meaning of "probable cause" is swatted aside (A witness statement might, just might, qualify). "Are you listening?" Next thing we know, this Brad Pitt look-a-like is getting manhandled by uniformed thugs while continuing to mutter inanities during the cuffing.
Are you even listening, dude?
Another car pulls up, complete with point-of-view action driving. The production values, they keep getting better and better. The third officer rushes up with a taser. "Tase me!" is offered as one last act of defiance, but we're a little less reluctant to deploy the zapper as opposed to the hand cannon. First some painful electricity, than an awkward fall to the ground that looked really painful for the Free Man. Another police car pulls up. The scene ends with no less than four puppets of a criminal state working to subdue this goof. This is my special day where I got to be the Big Boy, I'll always cherish it.
I'm only eight minutes in. According to my pocket calculator that means we might do five of these. The "Holiday Season" has come early.
Komment Korner
For me busting the window is like busting a load
I got a dui once because I had a prescription that was a day expired.
As a cop, as soon as someone starts giving you a bunch of legal terms, you know you might have to tase an idiot today
the second guy looks like a human form of Chucky.
sees the time "Oh I should probably go to bed" sees a 42 minute video of sovereign idiots "NAH"
love watching these idiots getting there ass beat
Jesus christ, what HAPPENED to the guy @4:00? He looks like a goddamn manikin and his lips aren't moving. He's gotta be either high or drunk off his ass.
I THREW IT ON THE GROUND!!! I'm not a part of your system!!
Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.
What is a sovereign citizen? After watching a twenty minute video of some of them being laid to waste by law enforcement I'm still not entirely certain, but I think I'm triangulating the concept. Start with all the worst parts of Libertarianism (So like 90% of it, haw haw), stir in the special kind of social ineptitude found in generation nothing and crown this rich sundae of pathology with a disregard for the laws of the road. Or, indeed, any laws, but it's mostly going to be things like speed limits and checkpoints that our anti-heroes will be running afoul of prior to being, as the title clearly states, owned. What we're going to get is a combination of the modern hippie and the student loan racket victim experiencing the consequences of their own poor choices tyranny.
Our first tale of truth to power ownership begins at night, already in progress. A representative of the beast system wants to see ihnen papiern, bitte. He makes this request in a thick as Russian mud in May southern accent, the kind suggestive of the villain law enforcement in a Burt Reynolds movie. What could have potentially been a teaser trailer for Stroker Ace Part 2, Am I Being Detained? is somewhat ruined by the trooper's general tractability, happily giving his own badge number and name to our faceless enemy of statism. The officer does, however, refuse to give his first name, claiming it's "irrelevant." You can practically hear the sickening thud of that boot stomping a human face, forever.
Am I free to go?
Repeated southern-fried requests for insurance and license are rejected and we discover our resistor was going 72 in a 55 mph area, which is why we have a constitution and so on. To protect that. "Is speeding a crime?" asks the motorist. You might want to brace yourself for this shocking revelation, but it turns out that yes, it is. With that clever gambit somehow defeated by John Law we get our next brilliant legal maneuver, namely "Can you prove that I'm driving." Let's turn a routine lead-foot stop into "Is this chair real?" philosophical onanism, that should save you some points against the license you refuse to show.
The sovereign citizen now claims to be "traveling" instead of driving, which should clear up everything and bring it to a successful conclusion. "I wasn't stealing, officer, I was dropping objects into my pocket and then moving them by walking." What can be done in the face of this semantic onslaught? We get one more request and then the authority enters beast mode, smashing the car window with his bare hands. You should've disclosed that you were that liquid metal terminator when I asked for your badge number, it would have saved a lot of suffering.
Where is John Connor?
The "owning" we were promised now begins in earnest. "This is assault!" gasps the traveler, as if doing play-by-play or something. He goes on to mention his lack of "consent," which is something that I'm pretty sure isn't required by the rule of law. "You can only arrest me for the murders I committed if I give continuous and enthusiastic consent!" Doesn't sound right. We get the expected appeal to police brutality, which at least is a concept with some grounding in reality, while the T-1000, Alabama Model, declares that he's "Fixing to tase you," presumably with his built-in cyborg weapons.
Said tasing occurs, we get some pathetic screaming and even some profanity, fade to black.
Without even a pause to get our heads right it's off to the next case, now daytime but still in a car. "I come in peace," announces the World Citizen and for just a moment I wish I was watching Fulbright Scholarship recipient Dolph Lundgren in the action movie dud of the same name. Believe it or not, the video we get here is actually even better. I know it's a bold statement, especially considering the officer probably won't say "Then go in pieces" while blasting the Last Free Man.
"I do not consent to you searching my spaceship."
The representative of the Global Ruling Elite, all wool cap and general hang-dog demeanor, attempts to reason with the prison planet inmate, insisting that he smelled wacky tobacco smoke coming from the car and now must follow up on this lead. Using the smallest words possible the badge monster tries to explain probable cause, but it really doesn't seem to be taking. The driver than asks to see "Your Supervisor" as if this is a truculent fast food employee who made your Dinner Dog incorrectly or something.
Instead of getting the manager the tool of oppression reaches into the vehicle, prompting less than masuculine cries of "Help!" and "I do not consent!" while a woman and baby scream away in the back of the car. Our reefer smoking friend denies residency in the State of Indiana, which is a nice logical talking point to fall back on after howling various nonsense like a ninny.
The face of oppression.
"You do not smell marijuana!" whines the modern patriot. I guess he's been reduced to attempting Jedi mind-tricks now. "These are not the stoners you're looking for. Move along." Instead the officer declares the car "reeks" of it, which earns the brilliant rebuttal of "No, it doesn't!" Man, I can't wait to see what society looks like in twenty years.
Back-up arrives and it time for another "assault" which consists of dragging our scruffy THC lover from the driver's seat. More screams for "Help!" and, almost unbelievably, "Call the police!" Yes, really. And yet there's still a few cranks that insist smoking something called "dope" might affect your intelligence. "Sir, we are the police."
It's already time for the taser. Say what you want, but it's more humane than hitting someone over the head with a steel baton. "What crime have I committed!" is now the battle cry of this peaceful warrior fighting for our inherent right to get baked in a parking lot. Apparently the batteries are low on the old sparky because it fails to subdue the weedhead or even generate much in the way of pitiful wailing. "You tried to attack my nuts!" Either a squirrel somehow gained the gift of speech and is bemoaning the encroachment of humanity on its personal hoard or this is the next bit of play-by-play from a drug freak. He also calls it "Improper use of a taser!" Five yard penalty, repeat third down.
Then it's time to kiss the pavement while the rest of this brave man's family (?) moan and make tearful requests. Can we get that lengthy conventional foreign war going again, or what?
I do not consent to you moving my corpse.
The vanquished pipe-puffer wants a lawyer. The child screams about getting out of the car and this sorry scene comes to an end.
We're in the cab of a truck, but don't worry, our driver is not the hard-working and generally decent sort of person you might associate with that profession. "I'm getting too old for this," Lethal Weapons our next enemy of individual rights as he awkwardly climbs up to have a chat. The smiling bully boy inquires about U.S. citizenship, but our smarmy hero wants to "Opt out." "I don't care if you're German or whatever," says the criminal with a badge, which sure is ironic considering he's acting like a German, circa 1940.
Another face full of pure, concentrated evil.
The big rig pilot declares a general policy of not answering questions. That will certainly help move this along. It's then time to discuss code 18.111, which is a much better use of your time than simply answering a straightforward question and then driving off with your load of refrigerator parts. After some dull civics class we come back to trying to get some answers, but no go. Then it's time to discuss borders and checkpoints. Maybe this guy is just lonely after a hard day of truckin' and just wanted a semi-friendly conversation. Who knows?
We talk about the fourth amendment and, big surprise, the noble rebel doesn't really understand it. After clearing it up a little nothing gets settled and we cut away.
Believe it or not, all of this amazing footage represents only about a third of the video's total running time. I'm not gonna call this my new regular Saturday night thing, but let's get real, this needs to happen.
Komment Korner
I hope you get AIDS.
The first cop just ripped the window out with his bare hands, that's metal as fuck!
So the key to being a "sovereign citizen" is to pretend like asking
really dumb questions like "ARE YOU ENTERING MY VEHICLE" will
short-circuit the entire U.S. legal system?
I live in Russia and I think we don't have any checkpoints, only traffic control posts.
Where did you deploy?
Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.
There really is no business like snow business. In fact, I often wonder why "snow jobs" are considered a bad thing, when in reality they're totally righteous. The bottom line is when the White gold, that sweet driveway candy, blankets the land, all any healthy person should see is giant dollar signs and opportunities for do-gooding that will actually be appreciated. Unfortunately, Heat Miser Government had other ideas. When two teens tried to get "high" on some far-out capitalism the five oh was there to derail the trolley.
Two central New Jersey high schoolers who say they were just trying to make some money were ordered by police to stop going door-to-door to offer to shovel snow, CBS New York reported.
Since there's no real crime in New Jersey, the best state in America, there's plenty of time to make sure punk kids abide by the 12,158 simple laws governing intrastate commerce and contract law.
Before this week's storm hit, the two friends from Bridgewater were making the rounds advertising their snow shoveling services.
"We got the idea from a book about economics written in 1874." Next time try fractional reserve banking, kids.
But when the two crossed into Bound Brook, they were stopped by cops.
Snow shovels up, don't shoot.
"We weren't looking to break the law. We just didn't know the law," Matt Molinari said.
That ain't no excuse, punk. Now let me fire the main armament on our police tank at you until you become compliant with all 50,000 pages of commercial legislation that every citizen is expected to memorize.
Police were alerted after someone called to report a suspicious person.
"Someone's trying to exchange services for pecuniary award, please send help."
"Kind of saw like a spotlight, like a police spotlight," said Molinari.
And to think a handful of cranks were opposed to paying taxes to fund the, like, police spotlight.
The high school senior told CBS New York he and his friend got a lesson in local ordinances, putting their shoveling business on the shelf.
For the reporters from the moral, spiritual and literal sewer that is NYC, this story of petty tyranny must have seemed like a glass of cold water on a summer day.
"'They need a permit, un-permitted solicitation is not allowed,'" Molinari said, recalling what the police told the pair.
"And no, the Constitution can't be used as a permit, punk. Here, let me point this loaded gun at you."
The Bound Brook police chief had a different version. He told MyCentralJersey.com they are not cracking down on kids shoveling, but rather that it was a state of emergency and they should not have been out.
They were actually breaking Law #144,151.a44!8(f)48ii9, not Law #456,334,566.affr#576#%%3&^. I know, it's a common mistake.
Like I said, totally righteous.
According to CBS New York, the teens were allowed to shovel for customers who called them directly, and they made about $100.
Most of this profit will be taken in taxes to pay for human derelicts, General Motors, Israel and better spotlights for local police.
