Class on the 6th of November

Today in class we began our creation of personal Pembroke superheroes by reading about Phoenix Jones.  Reminder you have a current event on Chris Sununu due on Monday the 12th and 4th period has posters on government due tomorrow.

October 11, 2011 12:08 AM

Seattle "superhero" arrested for assault

SEATTLE - Instead of the bad guys, it was Seattle's most prolific self-styled superhero that ended up in handcuffs.
Police officers arrested the 23-year-old man who calls himself Phoenix Jones early Sunday after he was accused of assaulting several people with pepper spray. He was booked in county jail on four counts of assault, with arraignment set for Thursday, police said Monday.
Jones, who wears a black mask with yellow stripes and a bulging muscle bodysuit, said he was only trying to stop a street brawl.
"Just because he's dressed up in costume, it doesn't mean he's in special consideration or above the law. You can't go around pepper spraying people because you think they are fighting," said Seattle police spokesman Det. Mark Jamieson.
In capital letters, Jones wrote on his Facebook page that said he wouldn't "ever assault or hurt another person if they were not causing harm to another human being." He also released a video shot during the alleged assault.


The often shaky video shows Jones and his sidekick, known as Ghost, running toward a group of people. Jones said there was a fight in the group. Police said there's no indication there was a fight.
The footage goes on to show Jones breaking up the group. Then a woman screams at him, hitting him with her high-heel shoes. Jones appears to be holding his pepper spray canister. Moments later a BMW car appears and speeds away on the street, almost hitting an unidentified man. Jones chases after the car to get the license number. A person with Jones is heard calling police to report a hit-and-run.
Jones and his followers then approach the rest of the group down the block. A woman screams at them to "stay away." Another woman runs up to Jones and hits him, screaming at him, "You sprayed (expletive) pepper spray in my eye!"
Two men in the group approach Jones, who then appears to pepper spray them.
Jones has been the most public face of a group of vigilante crime stoppers to show up in Seattle in the last couple of years. His exploits have garnered much media attention, and he's had a camera crew trailing him in recent months.
Peter Tangen, a volunteer spokesman for Jones, said Monday that police didn't have any interest in the alleged hit-and-run, but rather have an agenda against the masked crime fighter.
"They're on a mission to stop Phoenix Jones from what he's doing, which is legal," Tangen said.
Jones told KIRO FM's Ron and Don Show that police took his suit, boots and mask. He added that he hasn't had problems with the Seattle police department, but that a few officers have a "grudge" against him. Jones said he's got a backup suit.
"I should be on patrol later tonight," he said.
On the police report, the officer wrote that Jones "has had a history of injecting himself in these incidents. Recently there have been increased reports of citizens being pepper sprayed by (Jones) and his group."
The report goes on to say that although Jones "has been advised to observe and report incidents to (police), he continues to try to resolve things on his own."
On his Facebook page, Jones has nearly 4,400 friends, and says that he's married to a woman with the name PurpleReign.
Police weren't buying his Phoenix Jones handle, however. He was booked under Benjamin John Francis Fodor.
© 2011 The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

Read more: http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-201_162-20118370.html#ixzz1aTOCu0at

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's...Some Dude?!

They are ordinary men in extraordinary costumes, and they have risen from the ashes of our troubled republic to ensure the safety of their fellow citizens. Jon Ronson goes on patrol with Urban Avenger, Mr. Xtreme, Pitch Black, Knight Owl, Ghost, and the baddest-ass "real-life superhero" of them all, Phoenix Jones

By Jon Ronson

I am rushing to the emergency room to meet a real-life superhero called Phoenix Jones, who has fought one crime too many and is currently peeing a lot of blood. Five nights a week, Phoenix dresses in a superhero outfit of his own invention and chases car thieves and breaks up bar fights and changes the tires of stranded strangers. I've flown to Seattle to join him on patrol. I landed only a few minutes ago, at midnight on a Friday in early March, and in the arrivals lounge I phoned his friend and spokesman, Peter Tangen, who told me the news.

"Hospital?" I said. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," said Peter. He sounded worried. "The thing you have to remember about Phoenix is that he's not impervious to pain." He paused. "You should get a taxi straight from the airport to there."

At 1 a.m. I arrive at the ER and am led into Phoenix's room. And there he is: a young and extremely muscular black man lying in bed in a hospital smock, strapped to an IV, tubes attached to his body. Most disconcertingly, he's wearing a full-face black-and-gold rubber superhero mask.

"Good to meet you!" he hollers enthusiastically through the mouth hole. He gives me the thumbs-up, which makes the IV needle tear his skin slightly. "Ow," he says.

His 2-year-old son and 4-year-old stepson run fractiously around the room. "Daddy was out fighting bad guys in his super suit, and now he has to wait here," he tells them. Then he makes me promise to identify neither them nor his girlfriend, to protect his secret identity.

He looks frustrated, hemmed in, fizzing with restless energy. "We break up two or three acts of violence a night," he says. "Two or three people are being hurt right now, and I'm stuck here. It bothers me."

By "we" he means his ten-strong Seattle crew, the Rain City Superheroes. A few hours ago, they were patrolling when they saw a guy swinging a baseball bat at another guy outside a bar. "I ran across the street, and he jabbed me in the stomach," he says, pointing at a spot just below his belly button. "Right under my armor."

Unfortunately the head of the bat landed exactly where he'd been punched a week earlier by another bar brawler holding a car key in his fist. That attack had burst a hole right through Phoenix's skin.

"A few hours ago I went to use the bathroom and I started peeing blood," he says. "A lot of it."

I glance over at Phoenix's girlfriend. "There's no point worrying about it," she says with a shrug.

Finally the doctor arrives with the test results. "The good news is there's no serious damage," he says. "You're bruised. Rest. It's very important that you go home and rest. By the way, why do you name a pediatrician as your doctor?" "You're allowed to stay with your pediatrician until you're 22," Phoenix explains.

We both look surprised: This big masked man, six feet one and 205 pounds, is barely out of boyhood.

"Go home and rest," says the doctor, leaving the room.

Phoenix watches him go. There's a short silence. "Let's hit the streets!" he hollers. "My crew is out there somewhere. I'll get suited up!"

···

Phoenix didn't know this when he first donned the suit about a year ago, but he's one of around 200 real-life superheroes currently patrolling America's streets, looking for wrongs to right. There's DC's Guardian, in Washington, who wears a full-body stars-and-stripes outfit and wanders the troubled areas behind the Capitol building. There's RazorHawk, from Minneapolis, who was a pro wrestler for fifteen years before joining the RLSH movement. There's New York City's Dark Guardian, who specializes in chasing pot dealers out of Washington Square Park by creeping up to them, shining a light in their eyes, and yelling, "This is a drug-free park!" And there are dozens and dozens more. Few, if any, are as daring as Phoenix. Most undertake basically safe community work: helping the homeless, telling kids to stay off drugs, etc. They're regular men with jobs and families and responsibilities who somehow have enough energy at the end of the day to journey into America's neediest neighborhoods to do what they can. Every superhero has his origin story, and as we drive from the hospital to his apartment, Phoenix tells me his. His life, he says, hasn't been a breeze. He lived for a time in a Texas orphanage, was adopted by a Seattle family around age 9, and now spends his days working with autistic kids. One night last summer, someone broke into his car. There was shattered glass on the floor, and his stepson gashed his knee on it.

"I got tired of people doing things that are morally questionable," he says. "Everyone's afraid. It just takes one person to say, 'I'm not afraid.' And I guess I'm that guy."

The robber had left his mask in the car, so Phoenix picked it up and made his own mask from it. "He used the mask to conceal his identity," he says. "I used the mask to become an identity."

He called himself Phoenix Jones because the Phoenix rises from the ashes and Jones is one of America's most common surnames: He was the common man rising from society's ashes.

It's 2:30 a.m. by the time we reach his very messy apartment, where he quickly changes into his full superhero costume: a black-and-gold rubber suit complete with stab plates and a pouch for his Taser and Mace. "It's bulletproof," he tells me.

We head downtown and park in the business district, a bunch of empty office buildings in a nice part of Seattle. Other than some junkies and drunks wandering around like zombies, the place is deserted. We see neither his crew nor any crime.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"I'm in a lot of pain," he says. "The cut's still bleeding, internally and externally. A couple of my old injuries are flaring up, like some broken ribs. I'm having a rough night."

"Maybe you're going too hard," I say.

"Crime doesn't care how I feel," he replies.

Just then a young man approaches us. He's sweating, looking distressed. "I've been crying, dude!" he yells.

He's here on vacation, he explains. His parents live a two-hour bus ride away, in central Washington, and he's only $9.40 short for the fare home. "I've asked sixty people," he pleads. "Will you touch my heart, save my life, and give me $9.40?"

Phoenix turns to me. "You down for a car-ride adventure?" he says excitedly. "We're going to drive the guy back to his parents!"

Read More http://www.gq.com/news-politics/newsmakers/201108/real-life-superheroes-phoenix-jones#ixzz2IALoqAIs

How does Phoenix Jones serve his community?

What prompted Mr. Jones to act this way?

OPINION: Why do you believe there are often discrepancies between Jones’ reports and the police reports?  DEFEND your position. 

According to the GQ article what actions does Jones take five nights a week?

What does Jones say bother him about being in the hospital this night?

At the time of the article how do we know that Jones is under 22 years of age?

Who does Jones work with for his day job?

What is Jones solution for the man who is short $9.40 for Bus fare?

OPINION:  Are the actions Phoenix Jones taking those of a good citizen?  Should his actions should be considered community service? Why or why not?  DEFEND your position.