That lady tried to run over three unarmed, black, ICE officers, who had their hands up, and who couldn't breathe!
How did I do?
How did I do?
Somewhere in Occupied America
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6th generation Texan; manned spaceflight, astronomy, history, psychology, theology.
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An Estimated 200,000 fully-employed Dads are homeless and without benefit of SNAP or any other state benefits because of our Social Security Title-IVD incentivized Family Divorce Court system-- and nobody, but nobody-- including you-- gives a damn.
Sit down and shut up.
Sit down and shut up.
The way he rubs his inhumanity in Americans” face never ceases to stun me.
He’s illegally refusing to pay food stamp benefits…
…while he throws a ridiculously over the top Gatsby party for his right wing millionaire and corporate friends.View quoted post on X
A favorite story from 81 years ago.
A US Navy warship plucks a downed Japanese pilot out of the ocean. Rare, because most refused to be taken prisoner.
The pilot had been stationed on a small island, and by late 1944, the Japanese war efforts no longer had the logistical wherewithal to keep their troops supplied with rations. Many supplemented what they did have by living off the land.
Propaganda, being what is was, this pilot fully expected to be tortured to death when he was pulled from the sea by the Americans. Instead, he was met by a sailor who spoke to him in his own language, given a hot shower, clean and dry clothes, then set down to be served a hot meal.
It was more food on his plate than he had eaten in a week. Hot showers, all this food-- including meat and vegetables? Two things began to dawn on him: the Americans were not cruel demons, and that Japan could never hope to defeat such abundance.
Then, the final blow came. The American sailor took the prisoner's emptied plate away, and asked, "What flavor ice cream would you like?"
That story came from the Japanese pilot's own memoirs, as told in either Ian Toll's, *Twlight of the Gods" or James Hornfischer's *The Fleet at Flood Tide.*
Earlier this month, I self-toured the Destroyer Escort USS Stewart at Seawolf Park on Galveston Bay. She is presently painted up like the heroic *Samuel B. Roberts* (DE 413) who went down fighting on this day, 81 years ago.
On my tour, I found this machine behind me as I sat down at a mess to recollect.
A US Navy warship plucks a downed Japanese pilot out of the ocean. Rare, because most refused to be taken prisoner.
The pilot had been stationed on a small island, and by late 1944, the Japanese war efforts no longer had the logistical wherewithal to keep their troops supplied with rations. Many supplemented what they did have by living off the land.
Propaganda, being what is was, this pilot fully expected to be tortured to death when he was pulled from the sea by the Americans. Instead, he was met by a sailor who spoke to him in his own language, given a hot shower, clean and dry clothes, then set down to be served a hot meal.
It was more food on his plate than he had eaten in a week. Hot showers, all this food-- including meat and vegetables? Two things began to dawn on him: the Americans were not cruel demons, and that Japan could never hope to defeat such abundance.
Then, the final blow came. The American sailor took the prisoner's emptied plate away, and asked, "What flavor ice cream would you like?"
That story came from the Japanese pilot's own memoirs, as told in either Ian Toll's, *Twlight of the Gods" or James Hornfischer's *The Fleet at Flood Tide.*
Earlier this month, I self-toured the Destroyer Escort USS Stewart at Seawolf Park on Galveston Bay. She is presently painted up like the heroic *Samuel B. Roberts* (DE 413) who went down fighting on this day, 81 years ago.
On my tour, I found this machine behind me as I sat down at a mess to recollect.
Chuck Mangione now joins Taylor Swift as phrases never again to appear in my timeline.
I love that feature.
I love that feature.
Seriously, it would be perfect if her name was Valerie.
Valerah.
Valerah.