Red Dead Redemption Crash Fix

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WheneverI post on TikTok, I have no aspirations or expectations of going viral. I'm grateful when my work has more reach than I anticipated. Still, virality comes with its headaches, as my videos travel beyond a like-minded audience. Some people enjoy arguing and rigorous debate online, but that's never been my ministry. I'm looking for that much-maligned echo chamber. My hope with every video is that the algorithm puts me in front of people inclined to agree. That audience has helped a person as profoundly anxious as myself feel safe sharing vulnerably in some of the most public forums ever created.

The other side of virality is that it opens the door for those narratives of domination to announce themselves at a disorienting scale. Not too long ago familiar conversations arose on TikTok when some Black people began "confessing" about how uncomfortable they are around "hood people." If you haven't encountered it, you're not missing anything. It's the same bullshit it's always been since time immemorial. It's Chris Rock's bit about "Black people versus niggers."

The nigger's function is directly linked to the reality that dignity is not a birthright in this country. Instead, it is a competitive set of prizes in a cruel game of survival known as The American Dream. Most of us will never win, but we can at least have the satisfaction of beating someone else. The nigger is the unit of measure we use to determine our value relative to others. It's how we tally the score.

To buy into the American dream is to believe your dignity is the result of doing rather than being. It's being suspicious of your rest, your neighbors, your anger, your empathy, your volatility, your fragility, your desire to burn all of this shit to the ground.

To believe in the myth of the nigger is to admit you're not free. And to be afraid of people from the hood is to project your legitimate fears onto fictional monsters rather than the real systems designed to kill you.

I think folks online hear how I speak and see how I dress and could never fathom my proximity to the people they gleefully refer to as worthless or my own proximity to "crashing out." More than a few insisted that I go to "violent neighborhoods" so I could be frightened into the good sense of hating hood niggers.

It read like a fascinating declaration of faith. Faith in their gifts of discernment and faith in the power of the nigger. People had determined from a three-minute-long video that I wasn't from the hood and thus didn't know any crash outs. Still, I needed to make a pilgrimage so my faith and fear could be restored. And because I was a non-believer, people began to share their testimonies. Many said their belief in the crash out had saved their lives.

And look: I don't feel compelled to give anyone my hood credentials, but I'll say that not only am I unafraid, but some of the people dearest to me in the world are people who have committed the crimes many believe disqualify them from their humanity. The interpersonal violence they participated in has only exposed a society with a true monopoly on violence. A violence shielded by the law, bureaucracy, metal bars, and faith in the nigger.

What I know intimately is that the most dangerous person in the hood is still a person. The most violent person on the most violent block of the most violent neighborhood is still a person. That's the real tragedy: human beings are capable of incredible monstrosities, yet there are no monsters. The criminal, the hood rat, the inmate, the crash out, the nigger is a human being who did not come into the world aspiring to be thrown away. To pretend otherwise is a cruel lie. Living in a world where monsters exist would be easier and safer because we would no longer be responsible for our monstrousness.

It's the attachment to the binaries of good and bad, saint and sinner, Black excellence and Black failure, that are themselves acts of violence. And not an abstracted violence either. They are quite literally the binaries that uphold and justify prison, communal destruction, and white supremacy. Because who cares what happens to the crash out anyway? Are they not deserving of suffering? Is that not their rightful inheritance?

I believe as humans, we are wholly capable of whatever violence we can imagine. But to admit there is an archetype of a person that you find entirely disposable is a kind of violence I struggle to perceive and find grace for. It's an expression of the dangerous mentality folks lobbied at the hood. As I said in my initial video, having the power to discard is frightening because it's a reminder that you too can be discarded. Moreover, you cannot simultaneously condemn people for acting like they have "nothing to live for," while arguing that those people's lives don't matter. Why should people you want dead have to live up to your values anyway?

The people who have fully embraced the myth are as disconnected from a shared humanity as someone could be. And yet, I still believe them to be human beings. That's what frightens me. If human beings are capable of that level of disconnection, so am I. The "crash dummy" is not my cautionary tale. Those who believe in the myth of the crash dummy are. Because the modest, precarious comforts they have acquired have led them to behave even more monstrously, as has also been true in my own life.

I've come to accept that nothing I've achieved in a corrupt system could ever be solely because of my own merit. More importantly, I no longer believe people have to earn their dignity in the first place. Therein lies the appeal of the nigger. In a society where your worth is always conditional, someone must remain worthless for the system to maintain itself.

"What white people have to do is try to find out in their hearts why it was necessary for them to have a nigger in the first place. Because I am not a nigger. I'm a man. If I'm not the nigger here, and if you invented him, you the white people invented him, then you have to find out why. And the future of the country depends on that. Whether or not it is able to ask that question."

Ryan Ken is an actor and Peabody and Emmy winning television writer who uses an unconventional comedic perspective to comment on social issues, media, politics, and pop culture. They first came to internet notoriety with their satirical parodies that have amassed millions of views across Twitter, TikTok, and Instagram. In 2022, Ryan Ken joined the writing team of Last Week Tonight with John Oliver.

Crash is a 2004 American crime drama film produced, directed, and co-written by Paul Haggis and Robert Moresco. A self-described "passion piece" for Haggis, the film features racial and social tensions in Los Angeles and was inspired by a real-life incident in which Haggis's Porsche was carjacked in 1991 outside a video store on Wilshire Boulevard.[3] The film features an ensemble cast, including Chris "Ludacris" Bridges, Don Cheadle, Matt Dillon, Jennifer Esposito, William Fichtner, Brendan Fraser, Terrence Howard, Sandra Bullock, Thandiwe Newton, Michael Pea, Larenz Tate and Ryan Phillippe.

Crash premiered at the 2004 Toronto International Film Festival on September 10, 2004, before it was released in theaters on May 6, 2005, by Lions Gate Films. The film received generally positive reviews from critics, who praised the direction and performances (particularly Dillon's) but criticized the portrayal of race relations as simplistic and unsubtle. The film was a success at the box office, earning $98.4 million worldwide against its $6.5 million budget.

The film earned several accolades and nominations. Dillon received nominations for Best Supporting Actor from the Academy Awards, BAFTA, Golden Globe, and Screen Actors Guild. Additionally, the cast won the Screen Actors Guild Award for Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture. The film received six Academy Award nominations and controversially won three for Best Picture, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Film Editing at the 78th Academy Awards. It was also nominated for nine BAFTA Awards and won two, for Best Original Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress for Newton.

In Los Angeles, Detective Graham Waters and his partner Ria are involved in a minor collision with a car being driven by Kim Lee. Ria and Kim Lee exchange racially charged insults. Waters later arrives at a crime scene, where the body of an unnamed dead child has been discovered. The film then backtracks 48 hours to trace the preceding chain of events.

Anthony and Peter, two young Black men, carjack district attorney Rick Cabot and his wife Jean. As the men drive away in the SUV, Peter puts a figurine of St. Christopher, the patron saint of travelers, on the dashboard. They pass by Waters and Ria, who are investigating a homicide in a San Fernando Valley parking lot. The pair learn that a white undercover cop, Detective Conklin, shot a black undercover cop, Detective Lewis, with neither knowing the other was a policeman.

At home, Cabot rails that the carjacking incident could cost him re-election, because no matter whom he sides with, he will lose either the black vote or the law and order vote. Hispanic locksmith Daniel Ruiz overhears Jean, who suspects that Daniel is a gangster, demanding that the locks be changed again.

While searching for the Cabots' stolen vehicle, Sergeant John Ryan pulls over an SUV driven by a wealthy Black couple, TV director Cameron Thayer and his wife, Christine. Though Ryan knows the vehicle is not the one he is searching for, he accosts the couple on his claim he saw Christine performing fellatio on Cameron while he was driving. During the traffic stop, Ryan performs a body search on Christine and molests her in front of Cameron. Ryan's younger partner, Officer Tom Hansen, looks on in horror but does not intervene.

Hansen goes to his superior Lieutenant Dixon to report Ryan's conduct and requests a transfer. Dixon, a Black man, tells Hansen that a racism complaint would hurt his own career and allows the transfer on the condition that Ryan's conduct not be mentioned. Ryan is shown living with his ill father, who cannot get health insurance. On the phone, Ryan takes out his frustrations on the Black HMO administrator he speaks with. When the insurance adjuster does not respond quickly enough, Ryan insults her competency by saying that more qualified white men did not get her job because of affirmative action.

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