Most Americans Are Pro Choice. Republicans are Pro Crazy! Governor Ron Death Santa Signs a Anti-Abortion Bill... Shooting Himself in the FOOT! --- MT (Empty) Greene Does her CrazyTalk® Thing... But Now, She Woke the Fuck Up and Realized that Trump is a Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!
MT (Empty) Greene
Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene on Thursday defended the man arrested in connection with a high-profile investigation into leaked classified documents.
In a tweet just hours after the FBI arrested Massachusetts Air National Guardsman Jack Teixeira, 21, Greene, R-Ga., praised his alleged actions and implied President Joe Biden was "the real enemy...
FALSE: Tucker Carlson Whines Suspected Pentagon Leaker Treated ‘Even Worse’ Than Bin Laden... NOT TRUE: WE KILLED OSAMA bin LADEN.
Governor Ron Death Santa is an
Insult to the Futurama TV Show
His Crazy Policies are Causing His
Failure to Become Presidential
Nominee in the Republicriminal
Party... LOSER
Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis signed into law a bill approved by the Republican-dominated Florida Legislature to ban abortions after six weeks of pregnancy.
The governor’s office said in a statement late Thursday that he had signed the legislation. The ban gives DeSantis a key political victory among Republican primary voters as he prepares to launch an expected presidential candidacy built on his national brand as a conservative standard bearer.
The governor’s office said in a statement late Thursday that he had signed the legislation. The ban gives DeSantis a key political victory among Republican primary voters as he prepares to launch an expected presidential candidacy built on his national brand as a conservative standard bearer.
Stay Away from Florida! Civil Rights Group Issues Warning Against Travel to Florida... They Have GUNS, Floods, The Giant Stinky Seaweed Blob and The Red Tide.
It's A Horrible Place to Take a Vacation!
are being warned to curb non-essential travel to Florida
as a result of a spate of recent actions taken by
Sunshine State Republicans, led by Gov Ron DeSantis.
Elon Musk Get's it Wrong Again!
The Alleged Murderer Is a Tech Bro...
By pushing the Anti-Woke narrative, they hoped to drive the "we told you so" narrative. But less than ten days after Lee's murder, a suspect has just been apprehended by the police. He is neither homeless nor a drug addict. He is another tech entrepreneur. It is Nima Momeni, an acquaintance of Lee, according to local authorities.
Momeni, who owned a tech business in Emeryville, was arrested on suspicion of murder. He was booked into San Francisco County Jail on a murder charge.
By pushing the Anti-Woke narrative, they hoped to drive the "we told you so" narrative. But less than ten days after Lee's murder, a suspect has just been apprehended by the police. He is neither homeless nor a drug addict. He is another tech entrepreneur. It is Nima Momeni, an acquaintance of Lee, according to local authorities.
Momeni, who owned a tech business in Emeryville, was arrested on suspicion of murder. He was booked into San Francisco County Jail on a murder charge.
and on a Totally Different Subject...
Here's a Tale of the Sea by Matt Hinton:
WALKING AWAY
There are times when we all wish we could just up and walk away, leaving our worries, our fears, and the evening news behind. There are myriad escape routes – quilting bees, extreme skiing, booze. My escape is the simple act of leaving port and heading out to sea.
Well, it’s not always so simple. I served in the Coast Guard back in the late 60’s, part of their newly-formed and short-lived oceanography program. We’d put out to sea for a month at a time, heading out to one of the now-defunct ocean weather stations in the north Atlantic. Deep-ocean buoys and sophisticated weather satellites gradually took over our duties, and the Coast Guard’s ocean station program ended in the early 70’s. Back then, though, pre-satellite, we were an important source of data for forecasters and scientists.
Our preparations for those missions were on the hectic side. There’s a lot to do to prepare a ship and a crew of 140 for a month-long voyage. When all was finally ready, we’d just leave. There was no fanfare, no brass band, no fireboats spraying spumes of salt water hundreds of feet into the air. Big sendoff or not, I liked those departures, that sense of being done with the land. Ours became a very small universe then, a group of young men with a set of clearly-defined jobs to do and nothing much else to intrude.
A year or two ago, I helped a friend of mine prepare for her own voyage. I went up to Seattle to give her a hand with last-minute errands, and to accompany her for the first week of her trip. There were a hundred things to do, both on the boat and ashore, and a thousand items to check off on a fistful of lists. It was very like what I’d gone through in my Coast Guard days, getting ready for our forays into the north Atlantic. Then, however, the responsibility for all the thousands of details was spread thin among our large crew. My friend is a solo sailor, and had to take care of everything herself.
She was preparing for a five-month cruise through the maze of islands in northern British Columbia. She would see orcas and minke whales, otters and harbor seals. She’d anchor in remote coves where she’d hear wolves howling on shore at night. She’d follow grizzly bear tracks in the sand on her way to explore the abandoned villages of the Kwaikiutl and the Tlingit. Those last few days before sailing, though, all she could think of were lists. Did I remember to change the fuel filter on the engine? Is the alternator charging the batteries properly? Where did I put the spare winch handle? Do I have enough soy sauce, enough salami, enough fresh water?
Everything she could think of seemed to be done. If she’d forgotten something, she’d just do without. We cast off the lines. The diesel putt-putted us out past the breakwater into a fresh southwesterly breeze. We raised the sails, cut the engine, and were under way. It felt just the same then as it had 30 years before when my Coast Guard ships left for the open sea. The world became both smaller and larger. The human world was cut down to just the boat, to us, and the rest of the world grew to include all of the open sea.
I left the Coast Guard in 1971, and I don’t own a sailboat. I’ve found a way to reclaim that sense of leaving the world behind, however, and I can do it just about every day. I live ‘way up in the northwestern corner of California, near the little port of Trinidad. The harbor here is formed by a huge, rounded lump of volcanic rock named Trinidad Head. There’s a little sand beach down near the pier that’s a perfect place to launch a kayak. I often go down there on a summer evening, an hour or so before sunset, and slide my boat into the sheltered waters of the bay. My route takes me under the pier, and then out along the steep inner side of the headland. The water is very dark, shaded by the huge looming mass of the head. I paddle through deep shadow. High overhead, sunlit wisps of evening clouds hurry by on the westerly wind. I’ve turned a wide corner in the cliff now, and the pier and the boats in the harbor have all disappeared.
Up ahead is a sharp point of gray, grainy rock. On this side of the point, the cliff leaps up out of deep water to a tree-grown alcove a hundred feet above. Peregrine falcons sometimes nest there. To my left, the broad sweep of Trinidad Bay opens up. Ahead of me, past that abrupt little point, is sunshine. The surface out there is roughened by the wind, and every little wavelet sparkles in the low sun. The surge of the swell, almost unnoticed in the harbor, intensifies. A couple of paddle-strokes, and I burst out into sunlight and into the open sea.
Right here is the end of the land, and the beginning of the rest of the world. If I were to steer a course due west, I’d eventually find myself in Japan. To the south, the next land is Antarctica, 8,000 miles away.
The transition from sheltered water to the open sea is exhilarating, a smaller version of other, grander sailings. It’s also a little spooky. I know there are white sharks around, for one thing. One of them once upended my kayak, rendering me jumpy for weeks. The ocean, calm and placid inside the harbor, turns muscular and unpredictable beyond the point. The waves bounce off the cliff face, shifting my little boat from side to side. I feel a little uncomfortable out there in the open, all alone, and soon turn back into the sheltered, shadowed water inside the head. My visit to the open sea always does the trick, however. For the length of my small voyage, I’ve forgotten any problems that might wait back on land. I’ve cast off, I’ve headed out. I’ve done what a lot of people want to do these days, and walked away for a little while.
matt hinton.
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%20(1)%20(1).jpg "Trump is the Slave of Satan - Ever Read the Book Revelation in the Bible? The parallels are astonishing!")
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