(a follow-up to the November 8 post I Sometimes HATE Novembers, as promised…)
So, here I was, in my insurance-paid-for-rented-condo, about a mile North of my home, while contractors rebuilt it, after the drunk driver had hit it two weeks prior. That’s what I get for buying a corner lot, off a street that zig-zags. Drunks never caught that nuance, head straight for the alley, see the power pole, and crash into my back yard.
It had happened before. Last time it was just the fence that was destroyed.
I, of course, still had to go to work, pay bills, and check the mail at the house, all while surveying the excruciatingly-slow process of rebuilding the rear of my home and replacing the fence.
Thankfully (?) I was beginning to have more health issues (joy, joy) which meant I was missing more work. Which gave me the excuse to stop by and check the mail and the progress of the reconstruction more often.
And, it had been a couple of days since I had last checked the mail, and it was my birthday(!), so I thought I’d check the mail again. Hell, there might be a birthday check from someone in the mail? :-)
I pull into the driveway. No contractors present. This always bothered me, as this process was taking forever. Of course, mine wasn’t their only project.
(This had been a little over two weeks!)
AND THE SIDE DOOR WAS STANDING OPEN ABOUT TWO INCHES!
This alarmed me, as no one was around. The door had been always locked and the extra key placed in one of those Realtor-access combination locks around the door knob. Which was now nowhere to be seen!
I exited the car and drew my 1911 pistol. (Yeah, I know. All my training (which I had trained others to do many times before) was to leave the area to a relatively safe location and call the police to respond. After all, there may have been multiple armed intruders inside burgling my home!)
BUT, this was MY HOME! And the training went out the window. Sigh.
I slowly entered the kitchen, listening intently for any activity inside, pistol at-the-ready. Then into the living room, bath and two bedrooms. This was relatively quick, as it was a 740 square-foot house.
It was obvious someone else had been inside. Someone NOT a contractor. A home computer, portable television, stereo, some faux Samurai swords and a number of other items were missing. Movers had taken many of the larger furniture items to put into storage prior to the reconstruction. But I was told they were unable to take the gun safe, as they were prohibited from storing firearms.
They had removed the Dillon XL 650 reloading press from it’s mount, preparatory to the rebuild. But had not put it into storage. (I guess it was gun-related). It was gone.
And the 800 pound, Fort Knox gun safe was missing. And this was on the floor…
Someone obviously had pried off the combination dial and locking lever to open the safe. And when that failed, THEY TOOK THE ENTIRE 800 POUND SAFE!
Credit cards, spare checks, school transcripts, cameras, my birth certificate and over fifty firearms! Gone.
First, I called the insurance company, to see if they had perhaps authorized storage of the safe and it’s contents, and had inadvertently broken the locking mechanism somehow in transit. Then, I called the mover and the police.
And was scolded by the 911 operator, as it was for emergencies only. How was fifty+ firearms possibly out on the street was not an emergency?
Ultimately, the contractor, the storage guy, my insurance man and the police arrived on the scene. I recounted my actions upon arriving multiple times for each of them. And I was livid. To keep me occupied (and busy and out of the way) the police advised me to make a list of what was in the safe, including all the firearms and serial numbers.
I knew most of their descriptions by heart, but the list (with Polaroids and serial numbers) was not around. It was probably in the materials previously packed and moved to storage.
Fortunately, I still had many of the receipts and gun boxes, which were labeled on the edge with the numbers.
And set about making the list on a legal pad.
All parties were questioned. The contractor’s employees all had cellular telephones they were required to keep with them at all times (for GPS tracking purposes). And all passed the location test.
As if someone couldn’t have left the phone at home off-hours to do a burglary? Or they told someone else? Come on! I never broadcast about the safe in my home, suddenly, after many strangers had seen it, it went missing.
After six months, the house was reconstructed, painted, re-floored (safe drag marks) cleaned (even clothes in the closet dry cleaned!) and restocked with the stored items. I had called in to stop all my credit cards the same day.
I received a check for the maximum available from my policy. (Note-to-self: Make certain all valuables are covered, and if there is a cap it covers all firearms. I was insured for a maximum of 5K on the firearms, eventually paid just over 7K total. Firearm valuation of the missing? Over 21K! in 2009 gun values)
Fortunately, I had taken my favorite 1911 and .38 snub with me to the condo!
And none of the identity items, credit cards or firearms have ever surfaced.
I’m thinking Mexico, and thank God that Fort Knox makes a quality piece of security equipment! I suspect it’s abandoned in the desert somewhere, still unopened. (Let this be a lesson – if you’ve not done so already, bolt your safe to the foundation and wall studs – even if it weighs 800 pounds!)
And among the missing are my electroless nickel Colt Gold Cup, 1969 Browning High Power, 4 AR-15s, my Ithaca Deerslayer Police Special 12 gauge, my pre-model 27 Smith & Wesson 5″, my Sig-Sauer P220 – marked made in W. Germany(!) and my 1942 Springfield Garand!!
I had to use the insurance money for other things, and never was able to replace any of the missing firearms.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
FTC – Fort Knox safes gave me nothing. I bought it at a gun show. Leave me alone!
Hold the Freedom Fries…
It may offer the best political science course on campus, but the lessons are lost on bureaucrats: UC-San Diego’s fabled “Che Cafe” is awash in red ink and in need of a bailout.
Students have run the restaurant, named for Cuban revolutionary Che Guevara, for 34 years, but they’ve steered it into the ground. Boasting of “exorbitantly low” prices, the vegan co-op and concert venue that once hosted an up-and-coming Nirvana has cost the student body nearly $1 million over the years, and isn’t kept up to fire or safety codes. The ragtag band of volunteer staffers, who call themselves a “collective,” faced eviction in March, but have persuaded the school to save their beloved stronghold.
Hey! Income redistribution, man!
I want to go to the local university here, and open an unsanitary, unprofitable, collectivist health-food hole, and name it after another mass murderer! It’s certain to be a loss leader and on the government teat. Maybe I can keep it going 34 years, too!
Let’s see – Stalin’s Vegan Steakburgers? Mao’s Tongue (containing no animal products)?
I KNOW – Castro’s Playa Giron! Pork BBQ!
And if the staff goes on strike, we can just kill them.
I don’t know what is the most sad – that they exist at all, or that ‘educated’ college folk (and the gov’t) have supported them for 34 years!!
Billy Shakespeare said that.
I’d a recent experience, wherein I left a blog post comment @ one of my blogfriend’s™ blogs. A few minutes later, it occurred to me that I’d addressed him by someone else’s name!
And there was no method in his blogging software by which I could make a correction.
(I did go back and make a second comment, apologizing.)
This reminded me of a year-or-so ago, when a kind soul sent me a few dollars on my sidebar Paypal link. (hint, hint). It was late, I was preparing to retire, and had taken my evening meds. (HALF of the medication I am prescribed has possible side effects of memory loss!)
And I thanked him profusely, using a wrong name!
Then, I sent him another email, apologizing. Hopefully, I got it right the second time(?) I’ve not heard from him ever again.
At least, in the few significant personal relationships I’ve had in my lifetime with the opposite sex, I’ve not uttered another woman’s name whilst in flagrante delicto!
I don’t think? I wasn’t on this kind of medication, then…
I don’t know…
(from Patrick J. Buchanan, as reported in Human Events)
“Dalton Trumbo was a socialist, but he loved being rich.”
So says Bryan Cranston, who stars in “Trumbo,” out this week, and plays the screenwriter who went to prison with the Hollywood Ten in the time of Harry Truman.
Actually, Trumbo was not a socialist. Bernie Sanders is a socialist. Trumbo was a Stalinist, a hard-core Communist when the Communist Party USA was run from Moscow by the Comintern, agents of the greatest mass murderer of the 20th century.
Trumbo was not what Lenin called a “useful idiot,” a liberal simpleton. He was the real deal, a Bolshevik who followed every twist and turn in the Moscow party line.
When Hitler signed his infamous pact with Stalin, and Germany and Russia crucified Poland and Hitler overran France, Trumbo justified the Nazi brutality, “To the vanquished all conquerors are inhuman.”
As Churchill led his country in defying Hitler, Trumbo, in his 1941 novel, “The Remarkable Andrew,” trashed Britain as no democracy, as it had a king, and charged FDR with “black treason” for seeking to aid the Brits in their desperate fight to stave off defeat by the Nazis.
A talented screenwriter who wrote “Roman Holiday,” “Spartacus” and “Exodus,” Trumbo was attracted to revolutionary violence.
Invited to do a screenplay of William Styron’s “Confessions of Nat Turner,” about the Virginia slave who led a rampage of rape and murder in 1831, Trumbo wrote back:
“[I]n carrying through his rebellion Turner did nothing more than accept a principle of white Christian violence which had enslaved all of Africa, and used it for the first time in American history as a weapon against white Christians.”
Biographer Larry Ceplair quotes Trumbo as describing America as “fundamentally” racist, with racism “the keystone of national policy both domestic and foreign…
“How many gooks have we killed in Korea? How many slopes in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia? Millions, and we’re still killing more of them. Our thirst for the blood of dark-skinned sub-humans is insatiable.”
Why is Hollywood making a movie about Trumbo?
To whitewash the traitor and his comrades who were blacklisted for refusing to testify to the House Un-American Activities Committee about their Communist Party membership and affiliations.
In promoting “Trumbo,” Hollywood’s flacks write of the late 1940s as the “darkest days” in American history.
They were dark all right. But probably less dark for Tinseltown Bolsheviks than the hundreds of millions who fell under the rule of the revolutions and regimes they supported in those years.
Between 1946 and 1950, Stalin murdered the Russian POWs we sent back in Operation Keelhaul, imposed his barbarous rule on 10 Christian nations of Eastern Europe, blockaded Berlin, built an atom bomb with the aid of American traitors Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, helped Mao Zedong conquer China and begin a slaughter of Chinese that would exceed the millions attributed to Stalin himself.
In 1950, Stalin backed Kim Il-Sung’s invasion of South Korea that left millions dead, including 33,000 Americans. The film script, “An American Story,” found in Trumbo’s papers, reveals deep sympathy for North Korea during that war.
As Allan Ryskind, son of Hollywood writer Morrie Ryskind, writes in “Hollywood Traitors,” his definitive new book published by Regnery, “There appeared to be no corkscrew twist in the Soviet line [Trumbo] wouldn’t embrace.”
With all its attendant favorable publicity, “Trumbo,” is designed to accomplish several goals. No only to heroize the Hollywood Ten, but to demean John Wayne and the other patriots who, along with Ronald Reagan of the Screen Actors Guild, helped clean the treasonous vermin out of their town and industry.
The villainess of “Trumbo,” played by Helen Mirren, is Hedda Hopper, the anti-Communist columnist who had considerable clout in Hollywood and backed Ronald Reagan, Ryskind Sr. and John Wayne, who eventually drove the Communists from their midst.
Larger issues are raised by this film.
If one has been a Communist, or a Nazi, and supported that evil ideology and its aims, what is one’s moral obligation to one’s country?
Is it not to step forward, and tell the truth?
What was the duty of Congress, if not to expose ideological treason in the most powerful cultural force in the America of that day?
What was the duty of the leaders of a great industry that found a nest of traitors in their midst, whose deepest allegiance was to our mortal enemy?
For remaining mute, refusing to testify before the Congress, the Hollywood Ten are portrayed as martyrs to the First Amendment.
Yet, as Communists, they were providing aid and comfort to the greatest enemies free speech and freedom of the press ever had.
Had the Hollywood Ten supported a subversive party in Stalin’s Moscow, what would have happened to them might have been slightly worse than not getting screen credits for the movies they wrote.
By joining a criminal conspiracy dedicated to the overthrow of the government established to protect our freedoms, and the imposition of Communist tyranny, the Hollywood Ten got what they deserved.
By their treason, they blacklisted themselves.
Funny how it keeps coming out that Senator McCarthy was right – there were Communists hiding in government, the military and Hollywood. But he f***** himself over, being a Constitution-stomping media whore, and was then rightfully censured for having done so.
Of course, now we just elect anti-American bastards outright, and they bring unrepentant terrorists and foreign agents right into the Seat of Government. No need to hide, now…
And while much of Europe is now acting to push the Trojan Horse of ‘refugees’ back out the gates, the United States is continuing to offer them sanctuary, paying little attention to the lessons of the Paris attacks.
I wonder if fifty years from now, screenwriters will be writing romantically about the treasonous acts of the terrorism pioneers of the American Caliphate.
By Fred Reed, in part…
It warms the heart of a curmudgeon: As I suppose we all have heard by now, black semi-pro football players at the University (sic) of Missouri have forced white officials to resign because of “White Privilege.” This Privilege is a great upsettance to them.
White Privilege is real, of course. It is a combination of high genetic intelligence, studiousness, a tendency toward intellectual exploration, the capacity to organize, sustained hard work, and conscientiousness. There is a reason why whites design Mars landers and black athletes do not.
To make this point clearly (See? It is my tendency toward intellectual exploration), let us consider the following questions:
(potentially racially-charged queries follow…Guffaw)
How many of the black athletes, or black radicals at Missouri, or anywhere, have any business being at a university? How many have IQs below ninety? How many are way below? How many are studying real subjects, such as chemistry, languages, philosophy, literature, or history—as distinct from subjects for the enfeebled, Black Studies, Sociology, Education, and Breathing for Credit?
How many of the jocks can read? In many universities the black athletes are kept in special dorms and get high grades for courses they never attend and can’t spell. Is that happening in Missouri? Can we see their SATs? No one, I promise, will want to check.
But wait, there’s more (visit the link, below)
SO? Does this guy have a point? Or is he perpetuating a stereotype?
I do remember attending a Public Speaking class at the local university many years ago. (1971?) There was a cadre of Black college athletes who insisted on sitting at the rear of the classroom and not participating in any activities, discussions or assignments. They did show up for class – sometimes.
And I remember being a bit miffed that I and others had to do the work past a certain standard to obtain a passing (or better) grade, and these cats were skating! It was obvious they expected to pass, so that they could remain on the team and continue to throw a ball around, and get the company of buxom, dumb blondes who seemed to follow them around like so many puppies.
I wasn’t thrilled they got the girls, either…
Guess I’m racist and have White privilege by the very nature of my skin color.
You remember? That by which Dr. King said we should not be judged?
PS – I think I got a B.
You hold title to it.
But must pay the government in perpetuity taxes for that privilege.
Then, there’s this –
Hammond Family Declared as Terrorist and Sentenced to Five Years in Federal Prison
Our hearts and prayers go out to the Hammond family with deep empathy. The magnitude of the injustices dealt to them is hard to comprehend. Their once happy lives have been forever darkened with pains of corruptions. The nature of their sentencing proves once again that justice is currently not found in the federal courts. The Hammonds are a simple ranching family that for generations has cared for the land they live upon. Prescribed burns are a vital process in keeping the land healthy and productive in the area. The BLM also performs prescribed burns and have let it get out of control many times, but never has it cost any federal agent hundreds of thousands of dollars in fines and years of life in prison.
The Hammonds prescribed a fire that moved to public land, they extinguished the fire themselves. The courts found that the burn increased vegetation for the following years, and had a positive impact on the land. With no authority or justification to prosecute, eleven years after the fire, federal attorneys have obtained judgment that the Hammonds are terrorists and must be punished severely for their actions.
November 8, 2007
I had spent Saturday night with my (then) girlfriend J. (who is now my landlord – it’s complicated) and we were caravaning back to my place in central Phoenix on Sunday night, around 7 PM. At the time, we both had Sunday’s and Monday’s off.
And I was about ten minutes ahead of her, preparing to pull into my driveway, when I noticed something annoying.
The porch light I had left on was not burning.
Damn! I just bought another yellow, incandescent bug bulb. They burn out so fast.
So, I pull into the drive, key my way in the back door, and head back to my bedroom to unpack.
It’s not just the bulb that’s off. My interior wall behind my bed has fallen upon it! The wall to the rear of the house seems to have moved laterally about 12 inches – making my doorway to the back office, computer/reloading room narrower by about a foot! I look in there, and most everything is strewn about and on the floor.
Exiting and looking into the adjacent bedroom, my gun safe remains, but the wall behind it has also shifted East about a foot!
I call J., who is still in route and explain something is very wrong.
Then, there is a knock on the carport door and I answer it. It’s a neighbor, who explains about 4 AM that morning, a vehicle drove through my fence and drove into my house! As it was much noise, many neighbors came out to investigate and found the truck had continued to plow through my yard, pushing the rear wall of my home sideways about a foot. He backed out and drove away, with the police in pursuit who stopped him about a block away.
It was a drunk driver in a company vehicle. Who knew?
The neighbors figured out I was not home, and as gas seemed to be leaking called the gas company and turned off all my breakers, promising the police and gasco they would have me contact them upon my arrival. Of course, no one knew where I was. The gas company shut off the gas. The police had left a note on my door asking I call them.
Then all went back to bed. And the drunk went to jail.
All while I was ignorantly asleep at my girlfriend’s house 17 miles to the S.E.!
Sunday became a late night. Calling my insurance man, who said they would pay for a (cheap) hotel, gathering up some additional clothes, and awaiting the construction guys who would plywood all the broken windows, the rear of the house and doors to make the house more secure.
More neighbors became aware of my returning home and stopped by to see if I was alright. The Latinos across the street – who spoke no English, and I suspect were illegals – brought me over a kitten to cheer me up!
Restless sleep began something like 0130.
And I was unable to return home except to check the mail for about six months, while the insurance company rebuilt my little house, moved me to a condo and cleaned up the mess.
Sadly, I had to return the kitten.
But wait, there’s more…
(look for the sequel in about two weeks!) :-)
(I will continue to post daily, this is just building suspense…)
McDonald’s was never on my radar as a child. We, as a family, rarely did ‘fast food’, and when we did, it was something like Kentucky Fried Chicken (before they stopped calling it fried, as hawked by the REAL Kentucky Colonel!) or Gibby’s Broasted Chicken. I do remember a visit to Dogs N’ Suds, once.
My Dad was one of those guys, who if they had a poor commercial experience with a vendor, never gave them a second chance. He used to often regale us with the tale of visiting McDonald’s Sunstroke Room (because they didn’t have covered, exterior parking in the Phoenix Summers), and ordering a chocolate shake-thin, because he preferred to drink them through a straw rather than eat them with a spoon. He didn’t understand that they had recently begun utilizing an early milk shake machine in lieu of the Mixmaster, making shakes one thickness. Thick. That forever ruined McD’s for him. And colored his later fast-food decisions.
So we got to hear the sunstroke room tale every time their TV commercial appeared. And we never went there.
The first time I visited McDonald’s, I was a college freshman, trying desperately trying to impress fellow freshman Marta B. (a lovely Scandinavian brunette) to
go make out with me study for finals. During an abortive effort to get alone, she asked we drive through. I was unimpressed, mostly because I was a horny freshman, but also because the generic cheeseburger had ketchup, mustard and a pickle chip – of which I was not fond.
It was five years later, when my Dad (who by then knew the franchisee of the dreaded sunstroke room location – the first McDonald’s in Phoenix – then located a little South of the SW corner of Central and Indian School Rd.) got me a job there when I was between ‘better’ jobs.
I worked there almost two weeks. I learned how to prepare their signature sandwiches, fries and shakes, including making them to my tastes. And, that, when when one wasn’t serving a customer or cooking, one was cleaning! That impressed me.
Then, I moved on to another, more familiar, security guard-related job. The McDonald’s moved a little further South, and across the street. No more neon arches. Or sunstrokes. They now had an indoors.
By then I was hooked. After all, I knew how to order my favorite burgers, now. And they had terrific fries.
Life continued. I grew up, got married, became a father. And sometimes took Molly to The Golden Arches. My (then) wife was never a fan, preferring Jack-In-The-Box. (Whom I also like.)
And, somewhere down the line, I got separated and divorced. And McDonald’s began serving breakfast!
I found I liked the sausage biscuits. And hash browns! Breakfast service ending promptly at 10:30 A.M.
Recently, McD’s has begun losing it’s market share. And they’ve made a number of changes to their menu since I was trying to kiss Marta. All in the name of getting back on top of the fast food pyramid.
Finally, they announced October 6 that they would loosen their no breakfast after 10:30 policy and begin serving breakfast ALL DAY! As many of their competitors have already done.
I was thrilled! I needed to run to Safeway yesterday morning, and needed to eat something. A McDonald’s is conveniently just across the street. What time is it? – OH, THAT’S RIGHT – All Day Breakfast!
Alas! It was false advertising. The do have some items from the breakfast menu all day – but NOT the sausage biscuits!
Fooled again by The Golden Arches.
And no Scandinavian beauty to kiss, either!
attention FTC – neither KFC, Gibby’s or Mickey D’s have given me anything. Nor did Marta, and I’m frustrated – GO AWAY!
I’ve not had a significant other (wife, girlfriend, etc.) for many years. :-( I’ve been fortunate that the last couple were interested in firearms and I was able to further educate them.
And both carried.
But, I saw a blog post on the Alien Gear Holsters Blog that caught my interest. And reminded me of some others I’ve known with less-than-interested significant others…
HOW TO CONVINCE YOUR WIFE TO LET YOU CARRY CONCEALED
With regard to how informed the significant others should be, I’ve two tales of woe:
A student of mine who worked at TMCCC with me had a wife who was vehemently anti-gun. Before we met, he had talked her into allowing him to have a Glock 19 in their home. (unloaded and locked away, of course!) We were able to go out shooting a couple of times, and I was able to markedly improve his speed and groupings. Part of this involved what he referred to as his front sight epiphany! (finally understanding how focusing on the front sight versus the target was the correct method to shoot). He loved shooting, and became enamored with one of my AR-15 rifles.
You can see where this is going, can’t you? :-)
Another one of my students had become proficient in assembling AR-15s for a local rifle manufacturer (as a side job). He had also begun his own business to do the same.
And my student really wanted an AR-15!
Well, I connected the two of them, and a deal was made. The rifle was made and passed to my student in the TMCCC parking lot (carried under disguise of a blanket). Had we been discovered, both of us would have been undoubtedly fired, due to having a firearm on the premises. (This was a few years ago). But the exchange went fine.
Unfortunately, my student had been dishonest, as he neglected to tell his wife of the purchase!!
I disagreed with him, but, Hell, I wasn’t married to her.
He even kept the rifle bivouacked at a friend’s house (not mine), lest she fine out…
The morals and ethics in a marriage is for another blog post.
Ultimately, he was promoted, and had to move to Chicagoland, get a FOIA card (to get to keep his Glock), and was unable to take the rifle! My understanding is he visits her (the rifle) when he comes out to the Phoenix TMCCC office.
The other story is of another TMCCC student. We were good friends and coworkers, and again, his wife hated firearms. But, he started with a .357 Ruger revolver. Obtained his CCW permit and bought a 1911. And carried often, much to the consternation of his wife. But, he did obtain her permission.
Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he died. In going through his things, his wife discovered a 12 gauge pump shotgun (of which she was unaware). She gave the revolver, the semiautomatic, and the shotgun to her son-in-law, who was a shooter.
Just to get them out of her house.
She received a call from a local gun store. A gun which he had ordered had just come in, all paid for. She called me, asking what she should do. I suggested as it was all paid for, she should pick it up and give it, too, to her son-in-law.
That she did.
It was a custom Coonan .357 semiautomatic!
Too bad she just couldn’t stand firearms – she would have had quite a little collection.
I suggested to her, if she ever changed her mind (now living alone, and all) I’d be happy to educate and train her in firearm safety and self-defense.
No call to date.
(FTC – Alien Gear, Glock, Ruger and Coonan gave me nothing! GO AWAY!)
(Via Theo Spark)
This is sheer BALONEY writ large.
– Here’s some nanny government, leftist, multi-culti, envirowhacko agenda shenanigans to be aware of.
A few days ago the World Health Organization (WHO) released a report saying bacon, and other meat is bad for you and suggests that eating meat is as dangerous as smoking.
– WTF? Really? You wouldn’t shit me now, would you?
Of course, this is a UN organization and about half the names on their ‘report’ suggest a religious and/or cultural rejection to consuming pork and beef.
– That’s just a coincidence, right?
Let’s connect some dots before deciding.
– Two weeks ago the Federal Government took bacon off prison menus and said it was because the prisoners “didn’t want bacon.” They then almost immediately reversed that decision because of the outcry from prisoners.
– In May 2013 AP reported that WHO said people should eat more insects, that it was good for you, and good for the planet.
– Look at the attached photo from 2008. It was taken at a UN Food And Agriculture expo promoting eating insects.
Yeah, there is a clear “pattern” here, and it’s not a good one. It is chronic and persistent social engineering from the cultural Marxists who refuse to grasp that some things are simply “none of their damned business.”.
Now I’m hungry for some bacon to go with my breakfast eggs (remember when the “experts” said eggs were bad for us, only to be proven wrong?).
– Maybe a nice hot-dog for lunch, followed by a steak for dinner. Make that a grilled steak in honor of all the global warmunists that tried to outlaw backyard grills to “save the planet.”
Have you ever noticed that the folks who said we were all going to freeze to death in the 90’s are now saying we are all going to drown in warm water? And that these same folks are the ones who are largely vegan, or support things like eating insects and tofu (for the good of the planet), and that animals have RIGHTS? There is a a geopolitical agenda linked to all of this. The United Nations, lessening the sovereignty of The United States and COLLECTIVISM. And hatred of the individual and belief that people are inherently EVIL, and we are all killing Mother Earth.
I’m all about individual choices, let the collective be damned! I’d rather die earlier eating bacon, pepperoni and hot dogs, then live to be 105 eating tofu and insects!
And I LIKE bacon!