"Until those with power and access decide that it’s beneficial to truly educate people, and make it possible to get an education without going into crushing debt, then the mutt people here in the heartland will keep on electing dangerous dimwits in cowboy boots.”
A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.
More at The fifth estate
I contracted for the 4GLTE Hot spot almost a month ago. The only time I get 5 bars is when I'm in the Verizon Gun Barrel Road Office.
The norm is 3 bars and many many times only 2 bars.
This ad is misleading. Buyer Beware. I didn't and I'm now paying and paying and paying.
The access to the internet is only a single step above dial up and that step is mobility.
Very Very Slow.
".... a little constructive help from Republicans would be useful... however, what do Republicans do?"
Blame the President.
Now that is really constructive and useful. Throw mama from the train and the rest of America under the bus.”
Despite dire predictions from some about the harmful impact of the "sequester" spending cuts due to kick in on March 1, 29 percent of Americans have never heard of the sequester, and a full 40 percent of Americans believe we should allow the cuts to go into effect, according to a new poll from the Pew Research Center.
Forty-nine percent of Americans, on the other hand, believe we should delay the automatic spending cuts. But if the cuts do land, congressional Republicans would shoulder a far greater share of the blame than President Obama: only 31 percent would blame the president, while 49 percent would blame the GOP in Congress.
For 18 of 19 programs tested, majorities want either to increase spending or maintain it at current levels. The only exception is assistance for needy people around the world. Nonetheless, as many say that funding for aid to the needy overseas should either be increased (21%), or kept the same (28%), as decreased (48%).
|"In the white room with black curtains near the station...." begins the song by the Cream from the year 1968. It is September and my biggest problem ever is war. The Viet Nam war to be specific. My main goal is to save a life. My life.
I graduate high school in the spring. That year a friend who graduated only the year before returned from Viet Nam without a left leg. The reality of war is brought home first hand.
Now that you have the tune running 'round your head and are stuck with it for the next hour or so, I'll precede to tell you a story.
I'm a skinny little kid. A hundred and forty pounds soaking wet. Sending me to Viet Nam will be murder I think. I will surely be killed.
I'm no fighter. A few weeks ago while my girl friend and I sat watching The Flying Nun on her round screen color TV, there is a knock at the door. My girl friend returns in a few minutes to tell me that her ex boy friend is in the back yard and wants to talk to me.
What's a guy to do. An X boyfriend who is now in the Navy and wants a piece of my ass because of his dear John letter. It's a Dog Day Afternoon.
I walk to the back yard and the Navy guy whips up on my ass and on John.
15 months later I'm standing on a very cold morning in February as a civilian making the transition to military person. What the Fuck!
I'm 19 years old. Drop and give me 20. Stand and wait. It's dark and cold. Stand and wait until I tell you to move.
If you got 'em smoke 'em!
It's 5am one morning. It's cold. I make my way to the mess hall. The morning formation is taking place. I get in my normal spot. Some lifer mother fucker notices that I have a 2 month growth of peach fuzz. I'm 19 for God's sake. I have 3 whiskers on my face.
The drill sergeant pulls me out of formation, marches me to the front of the mess hall and hands me a razor. I dry shave my stubble and wait until the 1,500 or so basic camp initiates pass through for breakfast.
Hand to hand combat is the focus of the days ahead.. Learning to shot my weapon (No, not that weapon) and to kill with a bayonet. Marching in formation and singing as I go.
I don't know but I been told.....
In week 4 my girlfriend stops writing and is no longer taking my nightly calls. We get a weekend leave and I go home to face John.
I locate my father's 22 rifle, drive my red Camaro to a vacant lot and sit. Point and sit. There is no non painful way to do this. I chose an overdose of aspirin. This act followed me for the remainder of my military obligation.
I over stay my week end leave by 2 days and when I return my drill sergeant is waiting and immediately escorts me to a private spot of his choosing. He pretty well threatens
This event may have saved my life. It is now a permanent part of my record and weighs heavily in choices made by people about my future that I don't know.
Bivouac week is approaching and preparations are made for the 20 mile march to our camping area. Packs are stuffed with all the appropriate military items. Hanging from the pack is my sleeping gear; sleeping bag and ground cover.
The big day arrives and we assemble in the staging area to begin.
The front of the column moves out. Each man with a 50 pound pack. 200 pound men carry a 50 pound pack. 250 pound men carry a 50 pound pack as well as 140 pound skinny me. I quickly lose my step and move back faster than others were moving forward. Soon I am several arms lengths behind my platoon.
My platoon soon marches away as I struggle with the large pack, now out of sight. The best minds the Army has to offer decides I require a character reboot so the "Marchers Ahead-SLOW" sign is hung around my neck and I'm now alone except for the medical Jeep that brings up the rear of the column of marchers.
It's dark when I'm reunited with my platoon. I'm tired and don't feel like eating. All I want to do is lie down and sleep.
"Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes.