#Finnish Police
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Turku, Batman & Robin
Es war, glaube ich, Riku von Disgrace der am Abend des âMonsters Of Humppaâ-Festivals auf der Berliner âInselâ, Turku mit den Worten beschrieb: âBei uns sagt man, Turku ist das Arschloch von Finnland.â
Mag sein, oder auch nicht. Vielleicht fĂ€llt mein Urteil auch deswegen milde aus, weil ich, im Gegensatz zu Riku, noch keinen Winter dort verbringen musste. Und ehrlich â ich habe es auch nicht vor. Immerhin hab ich der Stadt einiges zu verdanken. Meine Freundschaft mit Lappis von Boomhauer, der vielleicht besten finnischen Garagerock Band, das letzte Konzert mit den Miracle Gyrlz auf finnischem Boden und etliche Jahre spĂ€ter dann das Aufeinandertreffen mit Nightbird.
Die einzige Tour von MĂ€kkelĂ€ & Orkesteri in Finnland war insgesamt unterm Strich grundsĂ€tzlich fast schon luxuriös. Bis auf den Turku-Gig alle Shows zusammen mit den Karoshi Lovers. AuĂer das die Karoshis ausgesprochen nette Kollegen sind, war damit auch das Transport- und Equipment-Problem elegant gelöst. Nur eben nicht in Turku. Da kamen Boomhauer ins Spiel. Die borgten uns den ganzen Kram. Mit irgendwessen geliehenem Auto irgendwo im Hafengebiet rumgefahren, Drumkit und Amps eingesammelt und irgendwie tatsĂ€chlich zum Club und zum Soundcheck gekommen. Kleine HĂŒrden einer Full-Band Tour.
Logistisch gesehen hatte NEM-Booking, unsere Agentur, alles andere richtig, geradezu vorbildlich gemacht. Das örtliche Omena Hotelli mit unserem Zimmer, direkt gegenĂŒber vom Club, somit ganze vier Minuten FuĂweg zur BĂŒhne. Praktisch auch, weil man nicht auf irgendeinen versifften Backstage angewiesen ist. Und ja, Klubi in Turku ist schon auch eine echte Nummer gewesen im Jahre des Herrn 2009. Drei Stockwerke mit jeweils einer BĂŒhne, gröĂenmĂ€Ăig nach oben aufsteigend, parallel drei Live Bands, diverse Bars und fĂŒr uns, die in der kleinsten der Locations spielen, idealerweise direkter Zugang zum Innenhof. Raucherzone. Mein Zuhause. Das mit dem TĂŒr-Code fĂŒrs Hotel finde ich da nicht ganz so wichtig. Es sollte genĂŒgen, wenn ein oder, von mir aus, auch zwei Bandmitglieder den kennen. Merken kann ich mir solche Sachen sowieso nicht und letztendlich werden wir ja doch alle im selben 5-Bett-Zimmer enden. Komplette FehleinschĂ€tzung der Lage.
Soundcheck geht erfreulich erfolgreich ĂŒber die BĂŒhne und wir haben noch gut eine Stunde bis Show-Time. Wir sehen uns zusammen den ganzen Laden an, und ja, hat was, insbesondere wenn man noch nie einen Freitag-Abend in einem Club in einer finnischen GroĂstadt erlebt hat. So wie meine Bandkolleginnen an diesem Abend. Falls doch, kann man auch gerne drauf verzichten und, zum Beispiel, vor dem Auftritt noch in aller Ruhe rauchen gehen. Im konkreten Fall in dem dafĂŒr vorgesehenen, Innenhof vom Klubi. Auf unerwartet angenehme Weise stimmt an diesem Abend mal einfach sehr viel, nein, fast alles. Das Hotelzimmer ist fĂŒr Omena-VerhĂ€ltnisse geradezu traumhaft, der BĂŒhnen-Sound ist gut trotz unbekanntem Equipment und die Stimmung in der Band scheint alles in allem prĂ€chtig. Ready to roll.
MĂ€kkelĂ€ steht im klassischen BĂŒhnen-Anzug rauchend im Hof. Rote North State. Nortit. Finnische MĂ€nner-Zigarette. Heute Abend mal mit Style. GeschĂ€ftiges Treiben, aufgekratzte, junge Menschen, deren Wochenende langsam Fahrt aufnimmt. Gute Auftrittszeit fĂŒr Turku, 22.30 Uhr etwa. Gerade noch bevor der traditionelle, kollektive, Freitags-Vollrausch bei der Crowd Wirkung zeigt. Poleposition sozusagen. In 15 Minuten treffe ich meine Band auf der BĂŒhne, um der Menge klarzumachen, was Sache ist.
Ein guter Abend fĂŒr Turku. Die Tour bis hier hin kein finanzielles Desaster, keiner am Durchdrehen. LĂ€uft. Daran werden auch die beiden jungen Prolls nichts Ă€ndern, die etwas zu zielstrebig auf mich zuhalten. FĂŒr Ărger ist es zudem auch eindeutig noch zu frĂŒh am Abend. Einfach zwei NervensĂ€gen, die ĂŒblichen Weirdos, aber heute bin ich milde gestimmt. Sollen die auch zu ihrem Recht kommen. Kurz texten lassen und dann âsorry, aber ich muss dann mal Jungs, Show geht gleich los. âI'm the singer, you know?â. Was in der Art. Eigentlich guter Plan, nur eben nicht heute.
Leicht herausfordernder, in ordentlichem Englisch gehaltener, aber beunruhigend sachlicher Tonfall. Ob ich mich an sie erinnern wĂŒrde. Wie könnte ich so ein charmantes PĂ€rchen vergessen, denke ich mir, aber nein, kann ich nicht. Ob wir uns denn kennen sollten?
Tja, wir haben Dir letztes Jahr gesagt, wir wollen Dich hier nicht mehr sehen. Das kommt nun doch etwas ĂŒberraschend. Weder habe ich diese beiden KnalltĂŒten jemals zuvor gesehen noch hat mir irgendwer in Finnland im vergangenen Jahr gesagt, er oder sie wĂŒrden mich nicht mehr sehen wollen. Ich denke kurz drĂŒber nach und frage mich dabei, was das die beiden eigentlich ĂŒberhaupt angeht. Wohin das hier eigentlich fĂŒhren soll.
Eine Ahnung davon bekomme ich in dem Moment, in dem Batman und Robin ihre Hundemarken prĂ€sentieren. Oha. Das Ă€ndert die Lage deutlich. Keine Panik jetzt, Du hast nichts zu verbergen. Du bist lediglich hier um ein Konzert zu spielen, hast weder hier noch irgendwo anders, irgendwelche Vorstrafen oder EintrĂ€ge, eigentlich sollte alles völlig in Ordnung sein. Andererseits. Die scheinen sich ziemlich, nein, ganz sicher zu sein, dass sie mich kennen. Die beiden wissen etwas von dem ich ganz klar nichts weiĂ. Ich habe immer noch keinen Schimmer was das werden soll.
Wo ich denn letztes Jahr im Juli gewesen wĂ€re. Hm, also ganz genau kann ich es gerade nicht sagen, aber es muss Finnland gewesen sein. Ja, und wo genau? Oder noch spezifischer, am Wochenende des soundsovielten. Die meinen das wirklich ernst. Krampfhaft versuche ich mich zu erinnern. Keine Chance. Ich weiĂ es einfach nicht. AuĂer dass es eben Finnland war. Ich muss feststellen, das hier nimmt gerade eine ungute Wendung. Man wird jetzt deutlicher, nachdem ich mich offenkundig nicht kooperativ genug zeige. Also Karten auf den Tisch. Die beiden haben mich höchstpersönlich an einem Wochenende im Juli des vergangenen Jahres, auf dem mir völlig unbekannten MetsĂ€kone-Festival, irgendwo im Wald hinter, bei, neben Turku, beim Dealen mit einem satten Kilo Haschisch verhaftet. Aus irgendeinem Grund hat man mich dann scheinbar nicht in den nĂ€chstbesten, finnischen Knast geworfen, sondern des Landes verwiesen. Mit der Auflage nie wiederzukommen. Einreiseverbot.
Schwere GeschĂŒtze. Nur das die mir gerade jetzt nicht wirklich gelegen kommen. Ich habe noch ungefĂ€hr zehn Minuten, bis ich im Idealfall ein Konzert spielen werde. Das ist - oder war bis gerade eben noch - der Plan. Statt mich also lĂ€nger mit meinen beiden, neuen Freunden zu kabbeln muss irgendeine Lösung her.
Ich war zum einen sicher nicht auf irgendeinem Festival in Finnland, weder um zu dealen noch um verhaftet oder ausgewiesen zu werden und ĂŒberhaupt lĂ€sst sich das doch sicherlich ganz einfach anhand eines Ausweises oder Reisepasses abgleichen und wir können uns alle unbeschwert weiter unseren jeweiligen, beruflichen Verpflichtungen des Abends widmen. In dem Moment, in dem ich es ausspreche, fallen mir mehrere Sachen gleichzeitig ein. Keine davon geeignet meinen Status zu verbessern. Alle meine Ausweispapiere befinden sich in einem Hotelzimmer, dessen Zugangscode ich gerade nicht parat habe und mein Telefon befindet sich an eben diesem Ort. Ich habe keine Ahnung wo sich der Rest meiner Band befindet, der eventuell zur AufklĂ€rung dieses epischen MissverstĂ€ndnisses beitragen könnte. Zeit schinden. Irgendeine Lösung muss es geben. Das hier entwickelt sich nicht zu meinen Gunsten. Das ist wie im Film und da gehört es auch hin. Nicht hierher. Nicht wenige Minuten vor meinem Auftritt. Die beiden sind sich sicher. Soweit klar. Ich bitte sie, mit mir in den Backstage zu kommen. Irgendeine Möglichkeit mich zu identifizieren muss es da geben. Das Hotel, meine Band, mein Pass - alles im Moment weit weg. Meine Chaperones behalten mich im Auge und folgen mir in den Heizungsraum, den man uns als Backstage zugeteilt hat. Da ist immerhin mein Gitarrenkoffer. Mehr nicht. Sollte sich da nichts finden, habe ich mit an Sicherheit grenzender Wahrscheinlichkeit heute keinen Auftritt im Klubi vor mir, dafĂŒr sehr wahrscheinlich einen deutlich weniger unterhaltsamen Abend mit den Mitarbeitern des Drogendezernats von Turku. Aktuell ist mein Problem nur, ich wĂŒsste beim allerbesten Willen nicht was in diesem Gitarrenkoffer sein sollte, das zur Entspannung oder AufklĂ€rung der Lage beitragen könnte.
Sollte ich jemals an der Existenz der Götter des Rock'n'Roll gezweifelt haben, dann entschuldige ich mich hier und jetzt aufrichtig. In meinem Koffer liegt eine Ausgabe von Uusi Rovaniemi von letzter Woche. Die Tageszeitung aus Lappland hat anlÀsslich des neuen Albums und meines Solo-Konzerts vergangene Woche ein halbseitiges Feature gebracht. Mit meinem Namen. Mit der Information ich bin Deutsch-Finne. Musiker. Auf Tour. In Finnland. Mit neuem Album. Jetzt gerade. Und immerhin eine Visitenkarte mit meiner aktuellen Adresse findet sich. Halleluja! Ich prÀsentiere Robin und Batman beides. Ich beteuere das ich es wirklich bin. Mehr hab ich nicht. Die einzige Karte, die ich gerade spielen kann, ist, wie's grad aussieht, eine Visitenkarte. Einer der beiden nimmt beides an sich und nimmt Kontakt mit Headquarters auf. Jungs, ihr wisst es vielleicht nicht, aber ich verstehe eure Sprache. Ich könnte sie sogar sprechen. Nur heute erscheint es mir taktisch geschickter zu sein nur Englisch zu verstehen.
Es dauert. Headquarters gleichen offenbar ab, ob es mich wirklich gibt. Ob es meine Adresse auch gibt. Ich höre zwar nicht, was am anderen Ende der Leitung passiert, aber Batman wirkt jetzt wirklich aufgeregt. Richtig hibbelig. Ich höre seinen AusfĂŒhrungen zu. Bin gespannt. Hier und jetzt entscheidet sich der weitere Verlauf des heutigen Abends. Und ja, er ist sich völlig sicher, das ist der Typ, er hat ihn ja auch persönlich festgenommen. Nein, keine Verwechslung möglich. Batman wird im Laufe des Telefonats deutlich kleinlauter. In seinem Gesicht lese ich: EnttĂ€uschung. Er hat es schon gespĂŒrt. Er hatte ihn an der Leine, einen ganz groĂen, keinen von diesen kleinen Fischen. Dieser Fang könnte fĂŒr Punkte bei der nĂ€chsten Beförderung reichen. Mindestens. Aber nein, nicht mal ein Trostpreis. Leider verloren. Er unterbricht die Verbindung.
Ja, das war wohl ein sehr bedauerliches MissverstĂ€ndnis. Sie entschuldigen sich in aller Form. Aber die Ăhnlichkeit wĂ€re einfach zu frappierend. Sie können es sich nicht erklĂ€ren, ich mĂŒsse wohl einen DoppelgĂ€nger haben. Oder Zwillingsbruder. Ganz sicher ist, er hat lockige Haare. Wie ich. Er ist Deutsch-Finne. Wie ich. Er trug einen Anzug. Wie ich. Er hat meine GröĂe. Das war ich. Sehr viel mehr Ăhnlichkeit geht nicht. We're really sorry. Abgang Batman und Robin. Ich habe noch eine Minute um zur BĂŒhne zu kommen.
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#finnish#government#far right#nazisploitation#nazis#nazi#neofascism#lol#lulz#funny#hilarious#lmao#fuck the gop#fuck the police#fuck the supreme court#fuck the patriarchy#right wing terrorism#right wing extremism#right wing politics#right wing women#right wing bullshit#class war#classwar#antinazi#antinationalist#antiauthoritarian#antifa#antifascist#eat the rich#eat the fucking rich
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Two guys, yeah..
#moomins#moominvalley#art#inspector#the inspector#moomin inspector#the police inspector#moomin police inspector#police inspector#mr hemulen#hemulen#the hemulen#mr hemulen x inspector#hemulector#if it crossed your mind yes Inspector IS wearing that kinda outfit#had the thought since a certain crossover between finnish things was brought to my attention#doodles
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The registered names of some Finnish police dogs
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"Unlike most of their brothers and sisters in eastern Canada, socialists in both Port Arthur and Fort William [now Thunder Bay] wholeheartedly embraced the creation of the OBU [One Big Union]. By October 1919, all 160 starch workers, all the bakers, and 18 general workers in Fort William united with the members of the IWWâs LWIU [Lumber Workers International Union] in Port Arthur and joined. The FOCâs [Finnish Organization of Canada] decision to declare itself a propaganda organization of the OBU created an auxiliary in Port Arthur that gained control of the Finnish Labour Temple by assuming its debt.
In the midst of the election campaign of October 1919, local newspapers reported that the OBU had established branches in the region and that an OBU-affiliated Central Labour Council (CLC) had been established in Fort William. The council adopted the structure, constitution, and bylaws of the Winnipeg council. Well attended by workers of all nationalities and by a variety of unions, the council heard predictions that the local trades and labour councils would disappear within the next few months. The newly formed executive board of the CLC reported that both the coal handlers of Fort William, who had been responsible for a number of the strikes before the First World War, and the pulp and paper mill workers were engaged in discussions that would see them joining the OBU within the next few weeks. The Brotherhood of Carpenters local, consisting of 250 members, had already gone over to the OBU. The General Workersâ Unit reported 60 new members in the last week alone.
The OBU thus appealed to a variety of strata within the working class and, in principle and up to a point in reality, transcended the regionâs deep-seated ethnic divisions. Finnish workers, however, made up by far the largest ethnic group within its ranks. Well aware of this fact, and in order to discourage their further radicalization, police in both cities began a campaign of repression and harassment that, not incidentally, coincided with the 1919 election. Soon after the establishment of the first OBU branches in Port Arthur, for example, a series of raids shook that cityâs âFinnish quarterâ (the area immediately around the Finnish Labour Temple on Bay Street). Both local and Royal North-West Mounted Police (RNWMP) admitted to having searched, on 9 October, seven homes described as âpropaganda depots,â confiscating a large amount of âBolshevikâ literature and arresting seven âFinlanders.â These arrests were followed the next day by the search and seizure of âredâ material at the Fort William bookstore of Edward Ollikkala, including a large amount of IWW literature. The RNWMP was quick to point out that âof the three centers of foreign population,â the Fort William coal dock section remained quiet and those arrested were not âenemy aliens,â merely âaliens.â
The presence of the OBU at the Lakehead worried the TLC [Trades and Labour Congress of Canada] so much that it sent William Varley, an American Federation of Labor (AFL) organizer from Toronto, to the region in late October to address the local Trades and Labour Councils and the General Workersâ Unit of the OBU in Fort William. Varley devoted much of his time to demonizing the Winnipeg General Strike and the âhopelessness of this form of action.â He contended that the AFL âhad done much for the workers and was the only form of organization.â Not surprisingly, his comments were met with ridicule, contempt, and often laughter. Rather than promoting a discussion about bridging the growing division among the regionâs more radical unions, the ILP [Independent Labour Party], and TLC members, the meeting intensified the general hostility towards the distant labour centre. ILP alderman A.H. Dennis, for example, contended that the TLC and it alone was to blame for the division that existed both locally and nationally among workers. As he suggestively remarked, âLabour had shown by the elections in Fort William, what they could do when it got together.â The TLC, he suggested, âwas out of harmony altogether with the workers,â and it no longer represented âthe workers any more than the Government did the people.â The OBU, the majority present agreed, was a necessity because of the past actions of the TLC and the AFL. It appears that at this point both leftists and centrists at the Lakehead supported the OBU and identified it as the defender of regional interests against the aloof bureaucrats of the TLC. As one delegate, tired of the double-speak and manipulation demonstrated by Varley, declared: âWell, if thatâs what you want, letâs hand in our charter.â"
- Michel S. Beaulieu, Labour at the Lakehead: Ethnicity, Socialism, and Politics, 1900-35. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2011. p. 70-71.
#thunder bay#fort william#port arthur#one big union#union organizing#union politics#working class politics#canadian socialism#left wing unions#police raids#finnish immigration to canada#winnipeg general strike#northwestern ontario#reading 2024#academic quote#labour at the lakehead#working class history#canadian labour revolt
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#tv is so unwatchable today#god i hate the military and police#and i hate this stupid shit fucking parade#ooh look heres the super expensive new fortified police car that was bought with ur tax money that is only going to be used to oppress#yippeee#and then vaguely talking about the world situation and only referring to ukraine#cant take even mention palestine in the slightest bcs it would obviously make the finnish goverment and military look bad#bcs we love sending guns and money to the apartheid state of israel#nothing makes me hate my country more than independence day#president xi jinping come liberate my fascist right wing country that supports genocide and fosters an ever growing racist climate#and even the news now fucking running that stupid vicious lie about mass rape#israel die faster please
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Sjkfkfkd ok heyy random killjoy disclaimer - I'm personally starting to get really uncomfortable with the word fruity so if you see this and enjoy reblogging gay things from me (ie todolf or whatever) then if it's possible, it'd make me happy if you didn't use it in the tags đ thank you for understanding!
#just say gay đ
đ
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#or 'they seem to be good friends'#đ obviously i can't police what other people write on the internet - my word isnt law! but as someone who is gay i prefer not to see it...#lgbtq#maybe i'm uncomf because a similar derogatory (ish?) word exists in finnish & i grew up hearing it (not applied to me but societally)#but well anyway jfkdk i can't control if people who don't follow me reblog my posts from other people đ
#just thought i'd say it
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disco elysium first few hours is really an experience like no other. dont remember anything my face is weird hot troubled bisexual girl walks away from a conversation with me millenial british chap with lightless eyes says i owe him 130 bucks anglodutch youth calling me his loser bitch pig finnish youth calling me a fat fucking faggot my new police partner telling me i need to conduct myself in a more professional manner my old police partner telling me im a waste of air the bloated rotting corpse bloating and rotting (i frew up) and then harassing me inside my brain. At the top of my game like noone else
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Finnish Police Release Simon Ekpa Hours After Questioning
Simon Ekpa, a self-acclaimed disciple of Nnamdi Kanu, leader of the proscribed Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), has been released by the police in Finland. Ekpa was arrested by police at his residence in Lahti, Finland, on Thursday. He was picked up by the police just before he was to grant a newspaper interview, a Finland-based newspaper, Helsingin Sanomat (HS), reported. The platform alsoâŠ
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đLOL this video makes me so happy! đ
Somebody brought an anti-gay trailer into the busiest district of Helsinki, thinking they could get away with it.
The people in the streets just got straight into action, tore the trailer away from the car and fucking SHRED the signs to pieces. You can even see one guy pissing on it đThe police is also there but as soon as they get away people continue tearing down the trailer.
For non finnish-speakers: There's pretty basic idiotic stuff written on the signs like "It's right to be a hetero" and "Gayness ruins population growth"
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Very important Finnish PSA:
kissapoika = catboy, good boy. play with them. pet them. whatever as long as it's consensual
not to be confused with
kissalan pojat = the police. do not interact
#mun posti#suomipaskaa#suomeksi#meinasin kirjottaa kisupoika mut kirjotin vahingossa kusipoika. vaihoin sit kokonaan kissaksi sen
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Related to this, the police over here is really good. They're usually pretty chill and just do their job
Do yall ever just enjoy random people reacting to stuff about your culture? It's both mildly interesting and funny to see ppl react to finnish culture lol
#ofc there are bad ones too#but thats a really small minority#generally theyre cool#police#finland#finnish fuckery#culture
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hereâs my RDR2 oc, his name is Yrjö MĂ€kitalo and he is a Finnish man who came to America to make money and send it back to Finland where he can support his wife and sick son. He also is sexy and has PTSD, what more could someone want?
more info under cut:
Name: Yrjö MĂ€kitalo (few call him by his Finnish name since itâs hard to pronounce / people butcher his name. He is given nicknames by everyone against his will. He hates it but doesnât mention it because it just makes social interactions in the early days easier.)
gender: cis male, he/him
Nationality: Finnish Immigrant. Has been in American for at least 5 years.
Age: late 30âs, early 40âs
Job: Deputy of Saint Denis police. Used to have a job in Finland also as an officer, thought it was more so behind a desk. He lost his previous job from taking bribes. ((He is still a corrupt officer and he knows that)).
Personality: quiet, impassive, secretive, and intimidating under the right lights. This is not what he is known as to his family in Finland. They know him as a loving husband, a protective father, a hard working officer who did what was right. The downfall of his life which lead to immigrating to America took a lot out of him. He doesnât talk a lot about his personal life for fear people will discover a more painful way to hurt him than merely killing him.
Misc:
- his wife used to braid his hair. His son gave him the blue and white beads in his hair. He braids his hair himself now.
- when both parents were very young, they had a daughter. She was little when she got caught in a house break in. It was dark and Yrjö shot her while trying to get the intruders. He still lives thinking about that mistake and now he hesitates before taking shots in the dark, or sometimes he just irrationally fears someone unexpected will get hurt when he shoots.
- his son was born a couple years after his daughter died. His grief made him extra protective and paranoid about his son dying. His son was sick when he left for America. Yrjö sometimes wonders how his boy is doing, if he is still staying in bed with lethargy and sickness. He sends letters and money to his family in Finland. He gets letters back sometimes, all in Finnish.
- he has a bullet scar on his left clavicle from when he hesitated to shoot a criminal because he looked like what Yrjö imagined his son would look when older. The bullet could have got him in the heart but it missed and injured his collar bone, putting him out of commission while his arm healed. That medical bill and temporary lack of wage was a major impact on him being able to provide for his family. It made him reflect how he had to be less reckless with his life.
- sleeping is hard for him. He thinks a lot about why he is here, whats the point of being in America if he dislikes it here and he can never make enough money go send back *and* ship back to Finland. He lives in Rhodes, he doesnât like it much but it beats the city and itâs cheaper.
- his biggest irrational fear is that someone will know cutting his braid and stealing his beads would hurt him more than a stab to his heart.
- he got into some business with loan sharks in the first years he was in America in the west. He couldnât convince people to give him a high rank job, even with his years of experience, and so he was a low ranking police goon. To make ends meet he went to organized gangs loaners whoâd happily put him in debt, knowing he had no friends or family in America to help him escape. The loan sharks threaten to find a way to get to his family if he doesnât repay them.
- he knows Finnish, some Swedish, and is fluent enough in English to work and live. His accent is present because he never tried very hard to integrate into American culture. If possible, heâd rather speak Finnish (or Swedish).Â
#Finnish#finland#rdr2#rdr oc#rdr2 oc#rdo#rdo oc#meekâs art#Meekâs oc#Yrjö#Art dump#suggestive#i realize a lot of these doodles mention sexâŠ#Sex isnt a major part of his story i swear to god⊠i just make a lot of jokes ABOUT sex related to him#Because he is so pathetic and depressing when he bangs#Anyways besides the point
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From the collection of the Finnish Police Museum. A photograph from 1906 when the American boxer Jim Johnson (the Black man seated in the middle, wearing a suit) came to Finland to teach the police in Helsinki how to box.
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"POLICE COURT," North Bay Nugget. May 9, 1934. Page 2. ---- Found in possession of a gun when he was arrested by C. N. R. Constable Carroll for breaking into one of the sheds on the tracks, James McCarthey, 18, of Toronto, was fined $25 and costs or three months by Magistrate Weegar this morning. He took the jail term.
A companion, Frank Glover, 16, was given the choice of paying a $10 fine or going to jail for 15 days for having stolen goods in his possession. He, too, went to jail.
The boys had stolen a number of railway signal caps which were found on Glover when arrested. Police did not suggest that McCarthey was using the gun for robberies. He said he merely had it to take pot shots at squirrels on his travels.
Trespasser Pays Fine Three railway trespassers went to jail for 10 days and a fourth paid a $10 fine when they appeared in police court this morning.
Forgiving Victim A scrap in a Finnish boarding house Monday evening culminated in a North Bay man being arraigned in police court Tuesday morning to face an intoxication charge. He paid $16.50.
The complaint was made by a Finlander who came to the police station with his face a mass of blood. He, however, did not want to lay an assault against his assailant.
Costly Hangover Still groggy, a North Bay inebriate was brought before the cadi Tuesday morning.
"Were you drunk last night?" the magistrate asked.
"No," the man stammered.
"Why you are still drunk, $16.50 or ten days," Magistrate Weegar decreed. The man paid up.
Deer Out of Season Pleading guilty to having deer meat in closed season in Salter township, Ormond Staples, Toronto, was given the option of paying a $20 fine or going to jail for 30 days by Magistrate Arthurs at Massey, Saturday. He took the jail term. Ormond was arrested by Game and Fishing Overseer Tom Tayler at Espanola, April 28. A rifle and a piece of spoiled deer meat were seized.
#north bay#police court#espanola#illegal possession of a firearm#armed with a revolver#trespassing#fist fight#boarding house#finnish canadians#inebriates#drunk and disorderly#illegal hunting#hunting season#carrying stolen goods#fines or jail#county jail#sentenced to prison#great depression in canada#northern ontario#crime and punishment in canada#history of crime and punishment in canada
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Once had a story idea where the whole point is that the protagonist sees himself as some sort of a tragic and romantic 18th century byronic hero, despite of pretty much everything except for the narration indicating otherwise. Like the whole style of the text is all over-dramatic high detail old-fashioned purple prose, in a stark, deliberately comical contrast to him just living in regular 21st century Finland. Nothing actually really happens to him to really justify seeing himself as some tortured and righteous hero.
One repeating theme in the book is references to Crime and Punishment, he sees himself as some sort of a Raskolnikov despite of having even less achievements in life, and he does, indeed, actually end up finding a girlfriend named Sonja. His Sonja, however, is not a doe-eyed and sweet childlike docile submissive tragic damsel, but an independent, tough and assertive trans woman who cut her family out of her life for not respecting her. He romanticises himself as seeing beauty in someone that nobody else does, which is quite deliberately gross, and it's clear that his ass would be out of her apartment so fucking fast if he ever verbalised this.
At some point in the story, she invites him to go to Pride with her. He declines, as a straight man he doesn't see what he would have to do with that sort of thing. And while she goes to pride without him, he goes to a bar to get drunk alone, gets into a fist fight, gets his ass beat, and wakes up in a drunk tank.
Filling out paperwork with a police officer - whom he remarks to somehow be the most stereotypical-looking ponytailed finnish female cop he has ever seen - he's asked to explain the incident in his own words. The protagonist explains the general details of why he ended up alone in the bar in the first place, and while there - already drunk and in Tragic Brooding Hero Mode - overheard some guy talking shit about the Pride march and LGBT people as a whole, and decided to turn around and go 'hey buddy fuck you, that's my manic pixie weed-smoking goth gf you're talking about', and the rest is already on record.
Unimpressed, the cop asks him was it really not an option to discuss this in any civil manner. Hung over and badly bruised, the protagonist simply shrugs and calmly says that he doesn't know how long she's been a cop, but she might come to eventually find out that drunk men do not generally opt for 'discussing things in a civil manner'.
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