Headline: "The White House posted a video clip Saturday of Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN) calling the United States of America the “U.S. G**damn States” in a rant about ICE immigration enforcement."
A Muslim crook and illegal immigrant to boot.
Go back to Salamiland where you belong. Maybe those groups that forced you to leave in the first place will give you the treatment you so richly deserve. Remember you were not part of the oppressed but one of the oppressors that got run out.
Come to this country as a so-called refugee and spend your time dissing the place and people that saved your ass.
We have enough of our own "bad" people - but they're ours. You're not.
When are the people of this country going to say enough is enough? The judges are useless and the politicians aren't going to. I suspect this summer should be "interesting" - if the conflagration holds off until then.
Taken from SG Ammo by way of Bayou Renaissance Man: "We have seen a sharp increase in consumer demand for bulk ammo orders over the past 8 days. Daily sales volume initially rose 25% to 35%, and now 35% to 45% over the past 3 days when compared to the daily averages of the first week of this month. This also represents an even larger increase from demand in December."
Thirty minutes isn't much time for lunch. Unless you're organized enough to pack something from home, which she isn't.
Walking quickly up the sidewalk toward the convenience store entrance, she sees a small, dirty figure of a man. He speaks quietly, but clearly, "Excuse me, ma'am ... could you spare something? A dollar or two for food?"
She stops and looks directly at his eyes. Not red or glassy, but definitely tired. Most times she puts off these requests by saying she has no cash, and then just walks on. This time, she reaches into her purse and says, "Let me see what I have." Only a ten dollar bill and some piddly change. She sighs, takes out the bill, folds it and hands it to him. "Here ya go. Hope it helps some."
Before she can turn away, he says softly, "Thank you, ma'am. You're very kind."
She thinks to herself, "No, I'm not. And I have no idea why I'm doing this." To him she says, "Take care." She watches him smile at her shyly.....or is it embarrassment?...... and slowly walk towards the fast-food place next door.
The summer heat and humidity is smothering today, but she notices that he is dressed in heavy, old jeans and what looks like a couple of long sleeved shirts. His long, dark hair is flattened to his head with sweat. He walks hunched over, head down. More like a man in his late seventies, even though after seeing his face, this man couldn't be more than somewhere in his forties. She also notices that he is not carrying anything ....... no backpack, no duffle bag..... not even a garbage bag with whatever possessions he might still have.
She takes one step forward and calls to him, "Hey....wait!" Walking cautiously towards each other, she asks him, "Where are you from?"
"Ohio, ma'am. Hope to get back there someday."
"Do you have anybody there? Family or friends?", she asks him, while asking herself, "What the hell are you doing??"
"So, you'd have someone to take you in for a while?"
"Coupla friends. Most of my family, what's left of them, gave up on me a while back."
"Do you know a phone number to get hold of your friends?"
He backs up a step. "I know the number that worked about six months ago."
Fumbling in her purse, she finally pulls out a plastic card. "Listen, this is a phone card I bought for a stupid reason not too long ago. I don't need it. You go get something to eat and then call your friends. I have errands to run after work, but will you meet me back here at six o'clock?"
He just stares at her, not moving.
"Yeah, I know" she says, "..this isn't making much sense to me either. If your friends are still there for you, we'll work something out....... What town in Ohio would you be heading to, anyway?"
"Akron."
"Okay..... so, meet me here at six.......and don't use up all the minutes on that card. You might need some for later."
She headed back to her car, already late for work, and wondering if she had enough change in her purse to get a soda from the machine in the employee lounge.
For the next three and a half hours her thoughts bounced around in her head like a pinball machine. Finally, she found a scrap of paper and began making a list: shampoo, soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, disposable razors, comb, vienna sausage, beef sticks, chips, crackers, cookies, water....... that was for WalMart. The next list was for Goodwill......some clothes and, hopefully, a small suitcase.
He was sitting at the end of the sidewalk, out of the sun, when she drove into the parking lot. She got out of the car and waved..... and then looked around self-consciously to see if anyone had noticed. He stood up as she got out of her car, but did not approach.
"Did you talk to your friends?"
"Yes, ma'am..... one of them. I told him I might call back later. Was that OK?"
"Definitely. I called the bus station. You can head out of here tomorrow morning if you still want."
"Yes, I still want......but, how much is the ticket going to cost? And.......I don't understand why....... why you're doing this."
"Don't worry about the ticket. And, as far as why I'm doing this....... I'm not sure I know either.......... Let's go get your ticket."
Being a tourist town in the Sunshine State, it had plenty of motels. After they left the bus station, she didn't have to drive far before pulling into the parking lot of a small one. She already rented the room and had the key, so she pulled in front of the room and turned off the engine. He didn't get out of the car immediately. He sat there, in the front seat, and stared at her.
"By the way, my name is Sam." he said.
"My name is Jane."
Neither of them moved to shake hands. They both got out of the car. She went to the back of the car to gather the packages from shopping. She handed him the key to the room.
Once inside the room, she deposited the packages on the bed and turned on the air conditioning unit. He stood in the middle of the room, looking like he might bolt for the door.
"Okay, Sam....... this is my plan.....tell me what you think. I'm gonna go get us some sandwiches or something for dinner. While I'm gone, you can shower and then call your friend. Let him know what time you'll be getting off the bus in Akron. There are clean clothes in this bag and bathroom stuff in the other one. Oh, ......is there something special you'd like to have for dinner?"
"I'm not picky, Jane. Anything is fine."
"I know, but is there something you haven't had in a long time that you'd really like?"
"Well........I haven't had a pizza in about a year."
"Great......pizza it is..... I'll be back in about an hour."
When she returned to the motel, the sun was setting. It was still hot and humid. She hoped the a/c was working in the room.
He opened the door when she knocked. The a/c was working fine and he had the television on. She almost didn't recognize him. He was now clean-shaven and seemed to be standing straighter than before. She saw him smile for the first time. And she smiled back.
She handed him the pizza and he smiled even wider. She also brought cigarettes, cold beer and two salads. They organized everything on the small table beside the bed and sat down opposite each other. That's when she noticed his eyes...... full of tears.
They ate slowly, without talking, for several minutes. Finally, he sat back in the chair and grinned and rubbed his stomach and let out a big sigh.
"There's more beer ya know, Sam. Don't let it get warm."
"Will you have another one with me, Jane? ....Please?"
"Sure. Thank you."
Their conversation began slowly. She asked him about his life before here. He began telling his story. He had had a life not really much different than many others. A stint in the military after high school. Two or three different jobs after that. Fell in love and got married. Got a job he really loved as a machinist in a factory. Life was good for a while. Then the bad stuff started piling up.
He said because he made good money, he and his wife spent good money. Their debt grew......and about the time they realized they were getting in too deep, his job changed. The economy took a nose-dive. His hours were cut back. He and his wife began having trouble keeping up with the bills, and they began arguing...... a lot. He started selling off some of the big toys..... jet skis, boat, and finally the '67 Mustang he spent three years rebuilding. It wasn't enough.
When he finally lost his job completely because the plant shut down, his wife left him. He put the house up for sale, but no one wanted to pay what was left on the loan.......let alone enough for any kind of profit. The bank finally foreclosed.
He moved back in with his parents and then his wife filed for divorce. Unemployment ran out and there were no job prospects in the area. He met a guy in a local bar who was getting ready to travel south. He invited Sam to come along...get a new start in a new place. Their first night in Florida, they celebrated by getting drunk on the beach. When Sam woke up in the motel room the next day, his new friend was gone. And so was all the money Sam had in the world.
The motel finally kicked him out when he couldn't pay the bill. He began living on the streets. He knew friends and family back home were having their own rough times, so he never considered going back or asking them for help. That was more than four years ago.
She asked him, "So, what makes you want to go back now?"
"This isn't home. It isn't where I want to be. And, no matter what I have to do to make a life back there, I'll do it. I just want to go home."
She stood up, took her keys out of her purse and said, "I need to get home and feed my critters and get some sleep. I'll take you to the bus station in the morning."
"Jane, if there is ever any way I can pay you back for all this............"
"No, Sam..........", she had to leave her words unfinished. The lump in her throat kept her from saying any more.
The next morning, through the motel room window, he saw her car pull up in front of the room. He picked up his backpack, dropped the key on the dresser and opened the door just as she was ready to knock. They smiled at each other and walked to her car.
They found the bus he needed to start his trip home. It was almost time to board.
Sam looked at her and asked, "You never did tell me why you are doing this."
Her voice was barely audible when she finally started to speak. He watched her face closely and saw her struggle to explain. "Well, Sam....... I know what it feels like to be stuck in a place you don't want to be." Her chin started to quiver and her throat tightened. "I know what it feels like to be alone. I've been too stupid and too stubborn to do anything about me. But, for some reason that I can't begin to understand, I knew I had to do what I could for you. There may not be any sense to it, but that's all I know to say."
A harsh, nasal voice came through the speakers announcing the boarding of the bus. He put down his backpack and put his arms around this total stranger and hugged her tighter than anyone he had ever hugged in his life. They stood clinging to each other until the final boarding announcement wedged them apart.
"Jane....... I hope you make it home someday too."
"Be well, Sam. Goodbye."
She did not turn to look back as she walked to the parking lot. When she finally found herself in her car, her face twisted in pain. Her whole body shook as her sobs echoed in her ears.
"Democratic Socialist Rep. Rashida Tlaib (D-MI) was triggered this week by a Homeland Security post on X featuring a B-2 stealth bomber overhead and a cowboy below, accompanied by the text in the center of the image that read:"We'll Have Our Home Again.""
"What does it evoke in you when you see this? Literally, when I see it, as a Muslim, as a Palestinian, as a child of immigrants, I see it as something that evokes the feeling that I'm not welcome here"
"She called herself "a Muslim, a Palestinian, a child of immigrants" and doesn't even bother to call herself an American."
Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.
Fort Michilimackinac on the south shore (northern tip of the lower peninsula) was an early 1700s French, then British, fur-trading fort. The French had settled the area in the mid-1600s and the fort was a significant player in the French-Indian war of the 1750s. The British took over from the French in 1760 even though the residents of the region were mostly French. The area was also involved in Pontiac's War in the mid-1760s. In 1781, the British abandoned this fort and re-established another on Mackinac Island. The old fort was burned upon abandonment; a replica is now a state park just below the bridge (the "new" fort, Fort Mackinac, is now a museum on Mackinac Island). The British kept Fort Mackinac for 13 years after the Revolutionary War when it became American territory . This fort was a player in the War of 1812 and was kept as an active Army post until 1895.
Opened in 1957, the Mac connects the Upper and Lower peninsulas of Michigan across the Mackinac Strait (which connect Lake Michigan to Lake Huron) via 4 lanes of I-75. Mackinaw City (settled 1673; pop about 800) is on the south side of the bridge; St Ignace (settled 1671; pop 2300) is on the north. I-75 extends another 50 miles and ends at Sault Ste Marie at the Canadian border. Mackinac Island is just to the east of St Ignace. Before the bridge was built, ferry service transported traffic across the Strait. Ferry service stopped the day the bridge opened.
The bridge - shoreline to shoreline - is 5 miles long and over 550 feet high (at the towers; the road is 200 feet above the water; the water is 250 feet deep at the bridge center) and is the longest suspension bridge (between anchorages) in the US. (Golden Gate is longer between towers; the Bay Bridge has an anchorage in the middle).
The bridge is a toll bridge ($4 for cars), one of three sections of I-75 that has tolls (one at the Canadian border, the other at the other end in Florida). The bridge is only open to pedestrians on Labor Day; it is not open to bicycles. Two of the lanes are closed to traffic on that day. Suicides are rare - perhaps a dozen in the life of the bridge. The bridge is not in a highly populated area.
The two outside lanes are paved; the inner two lanes are open grid. A 2ft median separates the two directions.
There is enough fear of crossing the bridge that an extra service is available to have a "driver's assistance" program in which someone will drive your car across for you. About 1,000 people per year request this service (of about 4 million crossings per year - deer hunting season!).
In 1959, an Air Force pilot flew his B-47 under the bridge - he was grounded for life.
The bridge occasionally closes due to high winds and icy conditions (ice falling from the cables).
Note: "Upper Michigan" is the northern part of the lower peninsula; the upper peninsula is the "U-P", inhabited by "Yoopers".
Sometimes I miss my home state ... not so much as I'd return though.
I once had a job in Sunnyvale, CA. I lived about 1 ½ miles from work ... and had to pass 8 traffic lights to get there. I'd have walked some of the time but there was a serious not-pedestrian friendly bridge over 101 that discouraged such thoughts. It would sometimes take ½ hour or more to get to work; traffic lights weren't synchronized and the back-ups to turn left sometimes took three light cycles to get through.
One of my work buddies lived in Santa Cruz and convinced me to consider looking for a place over there. I found a place outside the main city that looked pretty nice - room for a small garden (me? I dislike gardening ... but it appealed to me at that time) with a redwoods park across the street. I was a mile or so off the ocean and uphill from CA1; not in town directly, but close enough I'd spend time at the bookstore and the next-door coffee shop.
I liked Santa Cruz, I liked the Santa Cruz Mountains. If not for California being California, I might have stayed. And I might have died there; I left not long before the Loma Prieta quake and given the time of day, I'd have likely been at the bookstore or coffee shop when the quake hit - both buildings collapsed and were destroyed.
There was no internet or Starsux in those days. Coffee was good and books were cheap(er). The gay movement was present but not the alphabet soup types and certainly not in the "I'm offended, in your face" of today. More of a circus attitude ... but who likes clowns?
There's something - a smell - in the air under the redwoods that's almost addictive. Maybe it's the banana slugs.
As it turned out, Gary & Jody lived 4 doors up the street; purely by accident, I hadn't known where they lived before that other than somewhere near Santa Cruz. "Hey Gary, I found a place up on *** street". "That's where we live; which house?"
4 doors down ...
Now Gary & I worked in the same department at work so it made sense we'd go to work together. Hwy 17 was the route over the Santa Cruz mountains and into "Silicon Valley", work being almost on the bay.
It didn't take all that much longer to get to work from Santa Cruz than from my old place in Sunnyvale ... on good traffic days.
Hwy 17 is not a friendly road. Heavy traffic, windy twisty mountain road, California drivers.
At the time, I had a mini-pickup (GMC S-15), Gary had a similar Toyota pickup, and we both had motorcycles. We'd switch off vehicles every week to go to work. Gary didn't like commuting in the pickups, I wasn't thrilled on the motorcycles.
I really liked that bike
One good thing: Work rules set hours adjusted for carpools. Gary & I qualified so we'd arrange to be at work by 6AM - leaving Santa Cruz by around 5AM, getting a bit ahead of the main rush over the hill. Better yet, it allowed us to leave at 2:30 and skip late afternoon meetings because we were in a carpool. Didn't matter that we were in the same department and missed the same meetings - "rules are rules".
As a side story - rules are rules - we worked in cubicle farms. Usually the cubicle walls were filled with pictures, cartoons, other such weirdness. One day the word came down that the only thing allowed to be put on cubicle walls had to be framed. Being the smart-ass I was/am, I took some manila folders and a sharpie, drew some curlicues resembling a frame, cut out the pieces and surrounded the junk precious artwork with those 1" wide strips of manila folder. To my surprise, it was deemed within the rules - no one had defined "frame".
I love corporate life ...
Anyway, while Gray & I lived the corporate life, Jody was a free-lance software developer.
Their marriage was beginning to fall apart. While we were friends, we weren't so close as for me to get into the why they were having problems.
A friend came down to visit from Oregon and apparently he and Jody sparked on each other. I asked my friend - a lady-killer by nature; bedroom eyes the girls just seemed to swoon over - to lay off Jody as I worked with Gary and considered them both friends. To my knowledge, he did back off. To my suspicion, perhaps not.
Time passed, work changed. My boss (and Gary's) died of brain cancer. The boss's boss had been with us for two years, got fed up with California, and transferred back to corporate HQ near DC - all within a couple of weeks.
I gave notice and left California, my job, and my motorcycle all the same day (haven't ridden a motorcycle since). Moved to Seattle. Hindsight suggests that was a bad idea but that's a different story.
Gary and a few others left the company not long after I did and all scattered to the winds. I lost touch with Gary and Jody. Last I had heard, Gary gave up his profession and became a professional photographer of motorcycle races. That was long, long ago; we weren't so close as to stay in touch.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Fast forward a few years. I was searching for "something" that I never found - work and life balance perhaps - and had lived in many places. Seattle hadn't worked out after two or three years, a job in Bozeman was a joke (never work for a man whose company is a hobby); I had moved (back) to Reno but had a far better opportunity outside Denver. All this in the space of 4 years. Owned two houses in that time ...
A semi-wife and I had broken up; she went back to Seattle, I stayed where I was. I had put her in an opportunity to fulfill a dream she had ... the reality of that dream destroyed it for her - she went back "home" and I never saw or heard from her again. I have no regrets for the break-up but I do wish I hadn't been the one to destroy her dream; better to have kept the dream than face the reality.
Jody got in touch with me. ??? She was still in California, Gary and her had divorced years ago, and she was in trouble to the point where I was her last hope. That sounded strange ... we were never what I'd call close and there was never a hint of a spark between us. Desperation indeed.
She wanted to come out and visit. She had to escape ... something ... she wasn't being clear about.
She came east by train. I picked her up in Glenwood Springs - she had gotten on near Oakland. Glenwood Springs was a 2-hour drive and an 8-hour train ride into Denver. Quicker to just drive over and get her; train got into Denver late and I didn't want to go into the city anyway.
Turns out Jody had turned into a hard-core meth addict. She was trying to escape herself when it came down to it and she had burned all her bridges to the point where she felt I was her last desperate hope. Me??? Girl, you ARE in bad shape. It had been something close to 5 years since I had seen or heard from or about her.
I'm a sucker for stray cats, I took her in. Meth addicts are usually in a death spiral; many if not most can never escape. I made sure Jody wasn't carrying - by going through every inch of her stuff. I locked her in when I went out. I slept with her at night to ease her shakes by hugging her close - no sex, no desire on either of our parts; I never felt any spark, she had whored herself out that I doubt she'd ever get that close to anyone again. Just she needed some human contact from somebody that wasn't using her. Aren't I a great guy? /sarc
It was not a pleasant experience on my part.
Putting it quite mildly, it was a rough three weeks but it seemed she had kicked it. She looked better and told me she felt better and it came time for her to move on (please, oh please). The experience used up every bit of care and sympathy I ever had for her. I last heard from her from Madison, Wisconsin. She profoundly thanked me for saving her life. I guess that was true but I never thought of it in those terms. Maybe I was a good guy ... but I truly, really never want to go through that again.
I saw her once more when I happened to pass through Madison. It seemed she was doing OK but she lived on the lower levels of society; a world I hope and pray I never fall to. Spent the night as no more than a place to crash; left the next day.
And Jody - for the most part - passed from my consciousness. Except for the recent passing thought from going over old pictures and finding the one above that led to this tale.
I do wish you well Jody. I hope you're still alive. May I never hear from or about you again.
Headline: "House Dems move to impeach Homeland Security Secretary Noem after Minneapolis shooting"
They have no platform, they have no ideas, they have no solutions. All they have is hate Trump and everyone involved with his administration. I'm getting tired of hearing "Impeach!". I want to hear "Guilty!"
But I never notice Republicans countering such activities ... (the translation of the word "Republican" is "closet Democrat").
It's going to be ugly when things finally break.
“What miserable drones and traitors have I nurtured and promoted in my household who let their lord be treated with such shameful contempt by a low-born cleric!” Henry II
“Will no one rid me of this troublesome priest?” that preceded the death of Thomas Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1170.
Let's face it folks - we're caught in a quandary. The same people that are (supposedly) detaining and deporting the illegals are the figurative descendants of those who brought us Ruby Ridge and Waco.
What if all illegals are deported? What happens to all those Federal employees that now work for ICE? Even now with threats to shut down Dept of Ed, is anyone aware of massive firings of Federal employees?
