Those “Losers” his Chief of Staff recalled as his excuse for refusing to visit their graves in France or his not wanting “to be seen in the presence of military amputees because it doesn’t look good for me.”
Remember any of that? It had zero effect on his MAGA Minions, even as he and his family SUCKED billions out of the world those dead and maimed made possible.
Who would be the “suckers?” Those that gave or those that SUCK!
Young and before I met her, she signed up for a fundraising swimming contest to see who could swim the furthest and longest. She was the only girl. The lifeguard standing in the lane next to her at the beginning asked, “What are you doing in this race?”
A half-dozen hours later the sponsors sent a delegation to find her mother busy at home. They pleaded with her to come to the pool, “Please, we are all very tired and no one can get your daughter to stop.”
I taught her how to play a couple of different ball games. She stunk, just as everyone does trying to learn a new skill, but she kept at it, and at it, and at it, until she could whip me.
In Washington, D.C., after an early dinner with her brother, who was almost as big as me, we were confronted by 3 hoodlums. The one with the gun pressed it against my temple while the other two went through our pockets finding our wallets. But my wife walked on.
The thieves screamed at the “bitch” to give them her purse, but she just kept walking.
It occurred to me, as I heard the sound of the gun being cocked, that yes, the thieves were right, she should give them her purse.
“Please give them your purse!”
She did. She unslung it from her shoulder, twirled it over her head to gain some momentum and then threw it at them as hard as she could.
It bounced off one of the goons to the ground between them. Thankfully it was the gun slinger who bent over to pick it up rather than pulling the trigger.
I can still feel the enormous wave of relief I felt for that millisecond between the moment they began their sprint down an alley and I felt the breeze as my wife dashed past me in hot pursuit.
It took my every muscle twitching at top speed to catch and tackle her.
The marriage didn’t last, but I have often thought back of those long-ago days in admiration, disbelief and OH, SO THANKFUL THAT SUCH A PERSON EXISTS.
Tired from campaigning, I took a break, went home for a sandwich and clicked on the TV.
Robert Tilton
Some television preacher had his head slung down on a bible, beating it in tears and begging his viewers to send him a prayer request he would use with his special relationship with God. He could save them from whatever agony they faced, if the prayer request came in with a bit of money. The more money the more time he would be able to spend with God pleading their case.
My response instantly went apoplectic. He wasn’t just feeding on the old, the sick, and helpless, but the lonely without anywhere to turn but this son of a bitch.
I put down my sandwich and went to record my thoughts for that week’s broadcast.
But first let me ask you if you can recall this itsy-bitsy sampling of what these famous television slimes did to their millions of believers:
A. James Baker
B. The Copelands
C. Duplantis
D. John Gray
E. Robert Jeffress
F. John Hagee
G. Jimmy Swaggart
H. Bernard Law
I. Peter Popoff
J. Robert Tilton
A. Indicted on federal charges of mail and wire fraud, and conspiracy to defraud the public. Five years in prison stealing contributor funds.
B. Purchased three private jets while proclaiming children do not need a flu shot because Jesus had already “bore our sickness.”
C. God told him he needs a jet plane too.
D. Bought his wife a $200,000 Lamborghini.
E. Claims all Muslims promote pedophilia.
F. Blamed hurricane Katrina on lesbians and gays.
G. Hired prostitutes then apologized to his wife and God, with television crocodile tears, then went right out and did it again.
H. Spent years protecting sexually abusive priests.
I. Claimed that through God he was aware of any stranger in need and could cure their illness. Exposed as a fraud when it was shown he was fed information collected about each person in a hidden earpiece.
J. Claimed he had a special relationship with God and could save you if you only sent him a prayer request with proof of your good faith – money. Exposed as fraud when 60 minutes filmed his tossing the prayer requests in the trash, minus the money sent. Robert Tilden the very guy I watched while eating my sandwich.
MY COMMENTARY THAT WEEK:
“What is the most disgusting thing you can think of?
Is it waking up to find a fat tick suckling on the tender tissues of your armpit? Would it be licking the bottom of a buss station toilet seat?
Well for me it is television preachers feeding on the sick, the disheartened, the lonely, all desperate for help and someone they can trust.”
The station called me, said they had never had so many angry callers demanding that I be gagged.
Might have been that unfortunate bus station toilet seat line that did me in.
Yes! Even a picture of their handshake delivers a message of patheticism.
Given a target, literally as BIG AS THE ALL OUTDOORS these two are so immensely impotent that history might justly list them as collaborators.
To those of you still cuddling under the sheets: We have been at war for a decade and losing ground.
What the country needs is warriors with leaders that are willing to walk the talk that made the founding principles of the United States of America the envy of the world.
A decade ago, Hilary Clinton dipped her toes and called Trump supporters “deplorables,” then retracted the obvious.
We’ve found no charismatic leader, no Kennedy or Reagen, both who would be sickened by Trump. What we have is the feckless, forever calculating, boorrrring to lead us in a war that demands an in-your-face bludgeoning of this horror.
Where are you Washington, Lincoln, Roosevelt?
Rise up, whomever you are. Let’s make a fight of this!
The first time I had to raise my hand in a class had nothing to do with a teacher’s question. I actually had to raise it 30 minutes earlier than I did, but didn’t, and I would regret it for years and I am sure if childhood relevance cared any weight in adulthood, I would say that I regret it more than any other single self-inflicted event in my life.
The quiet rumbles in my lower stomach started while we were saying the Pledge of Allegiance, but the discomfort was minor, and I gave it little thought. Ten minutes later my view had changed somewhat, the early rumbles had become a bit gassy, but if I softly eased it out and looked busy and innocent, I could escape detection. Another ten minutes and I was out of gas, one leg here, move another there, putting my weight on the right butt, then on the left, gave only seconds worth of relief. Another 15 minutes and I was in serious trouble. That is when my butt said, “Raise your hand or poop right here.”
I did not raise my hand; I launched it as high as I could stretch. The teacher looked at my sudden demand for attention like one would a stranger. Not at all sure that she recognized me, confused and busy with more important matters she said, “not now.” Like stretching rubber, my arm went to unnatural heights. She took a second look, whatever sub-human quality she saw in my eyes gave me a reprieve. I told her, and announced to all that I, me, the invisible one, who saw the slightesst attention like the plague needed to go to the bathroom. She said, “Can’t you wait,” and then thought better of it, “OK go.”
I had so wanted to make it. With my first step into the hall, I knew it was now a race, but if I moved too quickly, I would not hold. Only thirty feet left, now twenty, at the ten mark it was over, out it came. Like a green horn just off the saddle, I waddled the last few feet to the boy’s room. It still would have been OK, no one was in the halls, but as I threw open the restroom door there stood Jerry Egerton, the toughest, nastiest kid on the planet.
I did not hear his hackling end even after the bathroom door closed behind him. I cleaned up pretty well and I covered up my underwear with a mountain of paper towels at the very bottom of the trash can, but the damage was done.
The humiliation should have been crushing, but as it turned out, only Jerry Egerton had been humored because everyone hated the bully as much as I did. If truth be told no one was that far removed from a poo in the pants at some point, and others simply thought, “Thank God that wasn’t me.” Within a couple of days, Jerry’s finger-pointing shoutouts of “poo boy” got old and ended. By week’s end no one remembered, no one but me, who still winces at the ancient memory of my final delicate waddling steps.
Raising your hand in class! I had actually seen other people do this. I could not understand what compelled them to jump off such a cliff, but they did. Some like Lacy Scanlon, jumped all the time. Lacy, clearly more deserving of existence than any other child I knew, knew everything. All that she did was perfect. I became convinced of this one recess when Stevie Bogard, my neighbor, best friend, and classmate came up with an extraordinary idea.
Until Stevie’s brilliance burst forth, we had been resigned to recess games involving spitting, making fart sounds, or just about anything we could do in the dirt. His idea would require courage, athleticism, cunning and some exhilarating aspect we were not quite old enough to grasp but was very exciting none the less.
He called his game “The Panties Report.”
Understand that this was the 50s and schoolgirls still wore flouncy dresses. The basic idea was to chase each other around, one at a time and at the key moment push or trip whoever’s turn it was and have them roll under some unsuspecting girl. With that you were able to return to the group with the “Panties Report.” The reports were almost always of white panties, color was a rarity, but on one fabulously triumphant occasion I excitedly reported back, “purple polka dots!!” It was so rare as to be unbelieved by my classmates. I was immediately tackled and piled on by every giggling boy in the group. In the dirt and spitting out dust I looked out from under the pile of classmates and across the field, there was Lacy. She was standing with her friends in a crisp clean yellow dress with a satin bow around the waist. All of them were quietly ignoring us and playing a game of hopscotch. As I looked at her from the grit and grime, I knew, as I have known ever since, that Lacy Scanlon and all her kind were of a different, more advanced sort.
Conservatives once inclined to sustain existing views, conditions, and institutions, were skeptical of change, marked as cautious, moderate even miserly. Dare I say good sense!
Republicanism, once an honored synonyms for conservatism, has vanished or hides in the dark as it’s new standard bearer, spends and spends: their money, their environment, the institutions and the international free trade friendships they held the standard for since the mid-19th Century.
History repeats itself the moment numbers of new-born overwhelm those of old-born.
Over the millennia, laborious efforts have been made by the old to transfer what they have learned by experience to the newborn. First tales and legends, then writing and printing pushed what had been learned through intimacy with events forward into the wall of inexperience and innocence.
In the ancient world what knowledge could squeeze forward was reserved for boys from wealthy families (think Plato, Aristotle and Socrates). But in our modern era of people’s government, knowledge amongst the self-governing masses became compulsory.
Public education, first given legs by Thomas Mann in the early 1800s, took off in every state eventually requiring subjects like science, history and the classics.
Once, long ago, so important became the need of an educated self-governing people’s awareness of the past, that attendance in public education became a requirement. Heavy fines, confiscation of welfare benefits, even removal of a child from parents became standard penalties for truancy in virgining democracies.
Today the decline in math and reading skills over the past decade has been well documented. Less understood is the effect of the over half century decline and now total loss in public civics education. What was once seen as the purpose of public education, building responsible citizens, is no longer a part of public education.
What that means is that our newborns have been rendered impudent, unfamiliar with such basics as our American Revolution or the Civil War. The fundamental operations of our government like the separation of powers, the Bill of Rights, World War II and the reasons our elders built them and fought for them now live only in the twilight that remains from those aging and once exposed to history.
What is now known by tens of millions of new Americans is only what they have experienced, what is their normal and today’s normal has no relationship to the lessons from our past.
Mom, widowed and worried, couldn’t afford it, but there I stood in front of the greatest present I ever received or ever would receive.
A week earlier in a hardware store, while she was purchasing a screwdriver, I stood transfixed over the most beautiful sight a 13-year-old boy in 1962 could behold: A shiny red and white go-cart, sale price: $125.
Everything about it sparkled and said lightning fast, out of reach, and beyond hope.
But there it was on my 14th birthday. Not sure why Mom did it and in likely remorse, went through the rules: NEVER ON THE STREET, NEVER ALONE, NEVER ON THE STREET, NEVER AFTER DARK, NEVER ON THE STREET, DID YOU HEAR ME? “NEVER ON THE STREET!”
I was taking it for a spin around our circular driveway when my best friend, Stevie Bogard showed up asking if he could give it a go. When he was done doing a couple of laps he got out and said we should have races.
“Huh?”
“My big brother just welded together pieces of a rusty bed frame with our old washing machine’s engine,” he told me.
Glancing down at my sleek beauty, I said, “Sure maybe I could tow you around.”
Ya! You guessed it, a day later, on the forbidden street we lined them up, my beauty against a nasty, rusty, pile of ear-splitting, homemade junk.
This week, when asked if there were any limits on his global powers, Trump said, “Yeah, there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
To ensure he can do what he wants he just demanded a $1.5 trillion military budget, a 60% increase he will force you to pay for.
Make no mistake, an American that supports this, is no longer an American but an enemy of all that America has stood for. Government OF the people, BY the people and FOR the people is seeing its end.
As a Christians we know how humble, kind, loving, tolerant, understanding and forgiving Jesus was. That is why we hold our President is such high esteem, a man who mirrors our savior and foreshadows his Second Coming!
The Arkansas Educational Television Commission, has dumped PBS, saying thanks for sending us Sesame Street, Antiques Road Show, NewsHour, Nova, Downton Abbey, All Creatures Great and Small and Ken Burns, but Arkansans will waste no time watching them.
Public media, which MAGA says spreads views adverse to American cultural values draws first blood in a state U. S. News and World Report rates as 48th in educational achievement.
Websters defines such correctness as “a belief that language and practices which could offend political sensibilities should be eliminated.”
The wave of injustice that washed so much slime over correctness you hear about it no more? Being a kind, thoughtful, polite and considerate, a listener of anyone thinking, feeling or acting differently than you, correctness, may have its year in 2026.
AMERICA 2025
Abandoning allies – OK
Supporting dictators – OK
Separating parents from their children – OK
Global warming – A HOAX
Putting political opponents in prison – OK
Protecting pedophiles – OK
Overturning government – OK
Ending USAID and 400 thousand children — OK
Sending citizens into gulags – OK
Ending the Department of Education — OK
Trashing schools, businesses and law firms not bending a knee – OK
Building monuments to yourself – OK
Ending Inspector General’s protections of you – OK
Vaccines that have saved over 150 million lives – A HOAX
Separation of powers – sleeping soundly
Yet at year’s end We The People are finally catching up. Election losses, court losses and Trump polls down by 17 points.
Dimly understood tariffs are the way to go? Trade war Increases costs which increases prices and who cries uncle first, losses.
In a democracy one group or another will always cry first. After all, we are a democracy and even those who would be last in line for a handout, farmers, can cry.
So, Monday, those producers of soybeans, corn, cattle and the like will stand behind Trump for a handout.
Only Trump and his family who are making new millions in deals won’t pay the bill. Those paying the hire costs will be forced to belly up, and that would be you in the price of groceries and now those dollars you handed over in taxes last year to the farmers who never would have needed them.
White House: When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.
Congress: In the circus, when something goes wrong, they send in the clowns to distract the audience. Well, something has gone very wrong with this circus, and the clowns are just everywhere.
A half-century passes, and 28 women have accused him of sexual assault.
He finds pleasure in “grabbing them by the p###y.”
He forced his fingers up her privates in a dressing room, and a jury of his peers forces him to pay $80 million.
His former wife and an Apprentice contestant file lawsuits over his sexual onslaughts.
He claims “he can get away with” intruding on a Miss Teen pageant’s dressing room to see contestants undressed, because he owns the pageant.
A flood of pictures appears with him and his friends Jeffery Epstein and his child solicitor, Ghislaine Maxwell. He deep sixes the evidence on this high priestess of pedophilia and provides her with a cushy incarceration.
Yet most white women, 53% support him to be leader of the free world.
