The Derek Chauvin trial will have closing arguments soon and the the case will go to the jury. It’s been almost a year since the death of George Floyd so civil unrest is expected no matter what the verdict. Social terrorist organizations like Black Lives Matter and ANTIFA will use this as an excuse to attack local businesses, the police, innocent citizens and anything that gets in their way of violence and looting. There is no redeeming value to these savages yet nothing is being done to stop their reign of terror. These are not “protests” these are violent attacks on innocent citizens and no one is taking the necessary force to squelch these uprisings. I always say “What we allow we teach.” Most of us are sick and tired of this behavior and want it to stop immediately. I have had more than enough and believe NOW is the time to draw a line in the sand and these urine bags to find out just who is in charge.
I have been to the city of New Orleans many times. I enjoy the culture, the tradition, the food and the people. We can learn a lot from the city of New Orleans on how to handle these out of control attacks and riots. At the end of every night the city of New Orléans goes down Bourbon Street with a fire engine and a hose. During the day the street accumulates various forms of trash, vomit and urine. This is pretty much the same filth you will encounter at a Black Lives Matter rally. The fire truck makes its way down the street spraying water at a high rate of velocity. Within a matter of 90 minutes all the garbage and stench is gone and Bourbon Street is ready for another day of Capitalism at it’s finest.
We all know that a powder keg is about to blow up later this week. There is NO EXCUSE for not being ready. It’s time for the tail to stop wagging the dog. Learn from our friends in New Orleans. Time to bring out the fire trucks and hoses. The moment someone throws a rock, starts a fire or breaks into a building it’s time to start the world’s largest outdoor community shower. You can’t grab a pair of Nike’s and a bottle of Hennessey when you have water coming at you 300 pound per square inch. I’ve seen the mug shots of these savages. Trust me they are well over do for a bath. I hope I am wrong about my fear and prognostication but no one has taken to the proper steps this year to prevent it from happening and I don’t think it’s gonna start now. Just remember….it doesn’t have to happen.
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Christmas Eve was always special for me as a kid. Family would show up and we would have a traditional Polish “Poor Man’s Meal.” Basically it was a very dry fish (sole I believe) served with pierogis and lots of sausage and kraut. Who was I kidding. I was and only child and I just wanted everyone to eat their shitty food so we could go upstairs and open up the damn presents. Things changed forever on that cold and blustery Christmas Eve in 1985.
This was my first Christmas Eve away from home and my family. I got into radio in the summer of 1985 and that changed the way I would celebrate the holidays. More often than not I was away from family. Christmas Eve 1985 found me in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I was two hundred and eighty-five miles away from my childhood home in Strongsville, Ohio. There was a terrible snowstorm that day and I was very sick. I had a fever and was alone for the first time on Christmas Eve. I called my mother to wish her well on the dinner and celebration she was about to have.
I got my first dog when I was in second grade. She was a collie. I named her “Lady.” Lady was my companion from the second grade on. Being an only child Lady was the closest thing to a sibling I would ever have. I was on the phone with mother that Christmas Eve when I heard the doorbell ring in the background. Mom explained she had to go as company was beginning to arrive. Something was not right. Something was missing. My dog would ALWAYS bark when someone rang the door bell. I stopped my mother before she could hang up and I asked in desperation, “What the hell is going on? Why is Lady not barking???” The pause seemed endless. Mother then took a deep breath, hesitated and said “Ya know when ya left in August and said I would know when it was time……..” There was a momentary lack of reason that filled my head. Suddenly it was clear to me…..Mother had killed my dog.
To this very day Mother will deny this ever happened. That’s what parents do as they get older. They develop selective memory and like to rewrite history. That was a long time ago yet it seems like it was yesterday. When your door bell rings this Christmas Eve and I hear your dog barking I can be rest assured you have never met my Mother.
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The image above is the logo of my home town baseball team the Cleveland Indians. I should actually refer to the logo in past tense as it was announced this morning that the Cleveland Indians will be changing their name to become part of this “woke culture.” I remember Dad taking me to opening day in 1973. There were 73 thousand fans in old Municipal Stadium as my Indians beat the Detroit Tigers 2-1 behind the pitching of Gaylord Perry. I had a wonderful time that chilly day in April. Now the “Woke Culture” wants to eliminate history.
So where did this nickname of “Indians” come from? It obviously must emanate from a dark and devilish racist community!!!! Sorry to disappoint you but the name was chosen in honor of Louis Francis Sockalexis, a Cleveland professional ballplayer who was one of the first Native Americans in the game’s history. So the team honored a real person and they designed a logo of what is a simple “cartoon character.” In 2018 the Indians organization actually eliminated the Chief Wahoo logo. That’s right. Ownership actually caved to the pressure from the left. How would you feel if someone bitched about Linus being bullied because he carries a blanket? Most people would respond with “That’s ridiculous. Linus is not real.” Ah-ha!!!!! Neither is Chief Wahoo.
The controversy over the name has forced many to get behind their keyboard and google the name of Louis Francis Sockalexis. The irony here is after you obtain the information you realize this guy surely isn’t a saint being persecuted. Mr. Sockalexis was a character. He was a great athlete but had numerous problems off the field due to his drinking problem. The Indians were known as the Cleveland Spiders back then and they actually believed in Sockalexis so much that they bailed him out of a South Bend jail where he was being held for going on a drunken rage and destroying a bar called Pop Corn Jenie. I’m sure these are the types of memories that the Sockalexis family doesn’t bring up in a chat room.
When do we stop this nonsense? It seems what this culture needs is to come together yet what we are watching and experiencing is continued division. Why are they trying to make us all similar? The foundation of the Constitution protects those differences yet the woke culture wants to destroy them? That should tell you where the root of the problem actually is. Enjoy that three dollar bottle of water the left is selling you….I’ll be in my backyard drinking out of the hose.
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I have always said that life starts to get shitty right after ya find out the truth about Santa Claus. From that point on your trust has been shattered. There is no way you will be prepared for the upcoming trials and tribulations of the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. Just to make sure you will be on the defensive for the rest of your life you will soon discover birds and bees and a freaking stork have nothing to do with the reason you have become a global footprint on this planet. Let’s get back to that fatal morning of December 1973 when I was in the third grade and Mother summoned me to the kitchen ten minutes before the school bus was to arrive.
Mom seemed to be serious. I went to the kitchen and she told me to sit down. Immediately I began to wonder what I had done wrong. There was no way I was ever going to be properly prepared for what she said next. “I wanted to tell you something before you heard it from Brian Kuhn or someone on the bus,” she said. “You know how ever year at Christmas Santa brings ya gifts? Well that’s actually Mom and Dad. Any questions??” Really??? Any questions??? I have a few. The first one would be “Who are you and what the hell did you just say??” My world was destroyed. Suddenly I questioned everything. All of a sudden the making a wish and blowing out the candles on your birthday cake thing seemed like a bunch of shit to me as well. I was speechless. I was stunned. I could not move and all Mom would say is “Hurry up…..don’t miss the bus.”
I was just eight years old and I felt like a sparring partner of Mike Tyson. I remember being in a daze as I found my way to the bus stop that cold December morning. The bus stopped, I heard the air brakes, the door opened and I climbed aboard. I looked to find my usual seat in the middle of the bus and I locked eyes with Brian Kuhn. For a moment we were one. We said so much without saying anything at all. Finally I exhaled and sat down. After what seemed like an eternity Brian Kuhn finally said “I see your Mother beat me to it.” I paused….smiled…turned towards him and said, “Yes. Yes she did.” It’s never been the same since that cold November morning in 1973. 😪😪😪
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Joe Biden recently called Trump supporters “ugly people.” Oddly enough I wasn’t offended. Funny thing happened during the past four years as us “ugly people” seem to have come together in a common bond…..a love for our country. This country was formed by a bunch of rejects. People of all ethnicities coming together with a common goal; to experience freedom and opportunity. I hate the government. It’s the biggest threat to our freedom and on this Election Day I firmly believe our Constitution is at risk.
A funny thing happened in 2016. America elected a President with zero political experience. He was a successful businessman. His name is Donald J. Trump. Trump is a lighting rod. There is no grey area with this man. You either love or hate him. He’s a billionaire. Most of us are not. So how would this billionaire with zero political experience deal with becoming the most powerful man in the world? I’ll admit he is like a bull in a China shop. He didn’t back down. He took on everyone in Washington. He tells you what he is gonna do….he does it….then tells ya what he did. That is the formula of success for Donald Trump. People noticed. People reacted. People came together. It truly was one of the most amazing things I have ever witnessed in my life.
As an “ugly person” I am not judged. I am accepted. No one cares how much money I have or how I dress. I have always been a very insecure person. I have an incredible need to be loved and accepted. As a teenager I just wanted to be popular. I was class President my junior year but it still wasn’t enough. I felt alone. This may sound silly but you may be able to relate to this. I can’t dance. Not at all. I look like I need medical attention. I was VERY self conscious of this all my life. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. I didn’t want people to make fun of me. I think a lot of people in this world feel alone. During the last four years something happened. No one can deny this. No one.
The “ugly people” came from EVERYWHERE!!! Rich, poor, black, white, male and female. Some are rednecks….some are fat….some are skinny…yet we share a common bond; a love of our country and freedom. It all came full circle when Donald J. Trump started to dance to the YMCA at the end of his rallies. He can NOT dance at all. He looks like the drunk Uncle at the wedding reception that is the first on the dance floor when the DJ plays “Old Time Rock and Roll.”
He just doesn’t care what people think. Suddenly everyone is doing the Trump Dance. I know it sounds stupid but it’s very important to me. After fifty six years on this planet I am able to dance. I still dance like shit but I really don’t care. This man deserves four more years. He has been through hell. He gets knocked down and he still gets up. He’s not perfect. No one but God is. Thank you Donald J. Trump for making me feel important. I’m proud to be an American. I’m proud that I can’t dance. I’m proud to be an “ugly person.”👇👇👇
As I write this we are slightly more than forty-eight hours away from the close of the polls for 2020, This will be an election like no other in my lifetime. You can feel the tension in the air. You can just sense that something is different this time around.
Years ago politics seemed like something that old people that smelled like urine and Vicks talked about on a Saturday morning coffee at Bob Evans. I never could relate to anyone that ran for office. No one talked about the things I cared or worried about and everyone seemed to just care about promoting and bettering themselves. Then Donald Trump came along. He wasn’t like those people. He didn’t fit in but he spoke about things I cared about and he spoke in a way I could relate to. He wasn’t politically correct but he believes in God, will protect my right to have firearms and will continue to drain the swamp of corruption that is Washington politics.
I’m not alone. Thousands have responded the same way. People that have been ignored for years have reacted and joined the movement. They come from every walk of life and every color. We are very different in background yet so similar in what unites us: Our love for God and this country of America. We are under attack from within. Our Constitution and freedom are at risk so the stakes are high and the time is turbulent. I am afraid that when the sun goes down on Tuesday November, 3, 2020 things will get very violent across the country.
This is the Super Bowl for Black Lives Matter, Antifa and other social terrorist organizations. They really don’t care about the outcome they are looking for a reason to cause violence, hate and destruction. Force MUST be met with GREATER force to be effective. You get one chance to make a first response. Let’s hope those that protect us will be prepared this time for what will indefinitely happen. Use your right to vote and GO HOME. Be part of the solution and not the problem. A true Patriot does not go looking for trouble. If trouble comes marching up your driveway…then you know what to do. 🦾🦾🦾🦾
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I’m fifty-six years old and enjoy being on social media. I have a twitter account, am on Facebook, do a weekly podcast and of course I have my blog that I thank you so much for reading. I mention my age for a reason. I’m not sure of what exactly happens on Facebook but all of a sudden some of my adult friends have been acting like a bad scene from “Beverly Hills 90210.” I understand that these times are tumultuous and people are on edge but why would anyone get angry over the opinion of someone else? If you are confident of YOUR belief then shouldn’t you feel sorry for the person of different opinion?
If you are familiar with Facebook then you are aware of how to drop “friends.” You highlight their profile, click on the mouse a few times and they are now eliminated. It’s quite similar to getting a ride home from Aaron Hernandez. Facebook teaches you a lot about who your “true” friends are. One weekend, as a kid, my father was in the basement saying “fuck” a lot. That meant he was working on the washing machine. Dad liked to give life advice while he was doing this so I made my way into the utility room. Within five minutes Dad told me; “You watch…later in life you will be able to count your true friends on one hand.” Then he lost his grip on the ratchet and slammed his hand against the agitator and yelled “Son of a Bitch!!!”
A few days ago I was looking at my friends list on Facebook and noticed more than a handful of people had “dropped me as a friend.” I was taken aback at first. I used to work in the radio business for close to thirty years. Some of these folks were colleagues and people that tried to HIRE me. I paused…took a breath…..and thought back to what my dad told me when I was a kid. Then I laughed and said “Son of a Bitch!!”
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I spend a lot of time on the internet. I read a lot and do a superfluous amount of research and it just doesn’t add up. Many polls have Joe Biden with a ten point lead as we approach the two week countdown to Election 2020. It doesn’t make any sense.
If you have listened to my podcast then you are well aware of the allegations against Hunter and Joe Biden. I told you about this in March of 2020. It now appears that Joe Biden used his drug addicted son to launder money from Ukraine. Is that a surprise to you? That’s just one of the reasons the swamp needs to be drained. How come the Biden camp has not refuted the existence of the laptop allegedly belonging to Hunter? I have been accused of things I did not do and I made enough noise to wake the dead.
Sleepy Joe tried to use the Chinese Plague as an excuse to hide in the basement and to stop the successful Trump rallies. Trump knows how to adapt and he started doing rallies outside at various airports. The sight of Air Force One behind the podium as he speaks to the massive amount of supporters gives me chills. Thanks for helping the Trump brand, Sleepy Joe.
Look….Trump is an acquired taste. He’s not for everyone but I go to sleep at night knowing my President will protect the United States of America and protect our Constitution. I don’t have to worry about him making backdoor deals with countries only for personal benefit. If Joe Biden does not care about his drug addicted son then why should he care about you?? He shouldn’t….he doesn’t….and he won’t!!!
Times are very strange right now. Go in the basement. Wear a mask. Bars not open. Bars open. Fifty-percent on restaurants…you know what I mean. I’m trying to move my mother from West Palm Beach to Cleveland to be with family. The Chinese Virus has caused delays. Mother has some health issues. My Mother is my rock….she’s my very best friend…I am lost without her and not ashamed to admit it. Mom is all alone….going through the Chinese Virus lockdown and health issues all by herself. As I write this mother is waiting for the results of a biopsy she had on Friday. This battle has been going on for awhile. The results of a bad x-ray were not expected.
My mother has never played the victim. She has never blinked an eye or shed a tear. Her only concern has been for the health of me..her only child. It’s the the ultimate sacrifice of unselfishness. Do not judge courage by appearance or stature. I’m 6’2 and 265 pounds and my mother is bent over at 4’11 but stands much taller than me in soul and character. If you believe in the next level, which I do, concentrate on the soul. You can go to the gym to work out your body yet the soul is eternal and needs the same attention. Make every day and moment count.