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THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

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We need these laws NOW !

1  There will be no special bilingual programs in the schools. 
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  *
2.  All ballots will be in this nation's language.
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  *
3.. All government business will be conducted in our  language. 
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  *
4. Non-residents will NOT have the right to vote no matter how long they are here.
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  * * * * * * * *
5. Non-citizens will NEVER be able to hold political office. 
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  * * * * * * * *
6  Foreigners will not be a burden to the taxpayers.   No welfare, no food  stamps, no health care,  or other government assistance programs. Any foreigner who is a burden will be deported. 
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  * * * * * * * *
7.  Foreigners can invest in this country, but it must be an amount at least equal to 40,000 times the daily minimum wage.
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  *
8. If foreigners come here and buy land... options will be restricted. Certain parcels including  waterfront property are reserved for citizens naturally born into this country.
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
9.. Foreigners may have no protests; no demonstrations, no waving of a foreign flag, no political organizing, no bad-mouthing our president or his policies.   These will lead to deportation.
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10.  If you do come to this country illegally, you will be actively hunted, when caught, sent to jail until your deportation can be arranged.  All assets will be taken from you.
     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Harsh, you say?

The above laws are current immigration laws of MEXICO
 

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Many modern historians and cultural elites mock these men... 
 
Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?
 
Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.
 
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.
 
Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.
 
They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.
 
What kind of men were they? 
 
Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists. Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated, but they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.
 
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.
 
Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.
 
Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.
 
At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.
 
Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.
 
John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. 
 
Some of us take these liberties so much for granted, but we shouldn't.
 
So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and silently thank these patriots. 
 
It's not much to ask for the price they paid.
 
Remember: freedom is never free!
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From a Friend's Blog:

 
HOW DO CIVIL WARS HAPPEN? 
 
Two or more sides disagree on who runs the country. And they can't settle the question through elections because they don't even agree that elections are how you decide who's in charge. That's the basic issue here. Who decides who runs the country? When you hate each other but accept the election results, you have a country. When you stop accepting election results, you have a countdown to a civil war. 
 
The Mueller investigation is about removing President Trump from office and overturning the results of an election. We all know that. 
 
But it's not the first time they've done this. The first time a Republican president was elected this century, they said he didn't really win. The Supreme Court gave him the election. There's a pattern here. 
 
What do sure odds of the Democrats rejecting the next Republican president really mean? It means they don't accept the results of any election that they don't win. It means they don't believe that transfers of power in this country are determined by elections. 
That's a civil war. 
 
There's no shooting. At least not unless you count the attempt to kill a bunch of Republicans at a charity baseball game practice. But the Democrats have rejected our system of government. 
 
This isn't dissent. It's not disagreement. You can hate the other party. You can think they're the worst thing that ever happened to the country. But then you work harder to win the next election. When you consistently reject the results of elections that you don't win, what you want is a dictatorship. Your very own dictatorship. 
 
The only legitimate exercise of power in this country, according to Democrats, is its own. Whenever Republicans exercise power, it's inherently illegitimate. The Democrats lost Congress. They lost the White House. So what did they do? They began trying to run the country through Federal judges and bureaucrats. Every time that a Federal judge issues an order saying that the President of the United States can't scratch his own back without his say so, that's the civil war. 
 
Our system of government is based on the constitution, but that's not the system that runs this country. The Democrat's system is that any part of government that it runs gets total and unlimited power over the country. 
 
If the Democrats are in the White House, then the president can do anything. And I mean anything. He can have his own amnesty for illegal aliens. He can fine you for not having health insurance. His power is unlimited. He's a dictator. 
 
But when Republicans get into the White House, suddenly the President can't do anything. He isn't even allowed to undo the illegal alien amnesty that his predecessor illegally invented. A Democrat in the White House has discretion to completely decide every aspect of immigration policy. A Republican doesn't even have the 'discretion' to reverse him. That's how the game is played. That's how our country is run. Sad but true, although the left hasn't yet won that particular fight. 
 
When a Democrat is in the White House, states aren't even allowed to enforce immigration law. But when a Republican is in the White House, states can create their own immigration laws. Under Obama, a state wasn't allowed to go to the bathroom without asking permission. But under Trump, Jerry Brown can go around saying that California is an independent republic and sign treaties with other countries. The Constitution has something to say about that. 
 
Whether it's Federal or State, Executive, Legislative or Judiciary, the left moves power around to run the country. If it controls an 
institution, then that institution is suddenly the supreme power in the land. This is what I call a moving dictatorship. 
 
Donald Trump has caused the Shadow Government to come out of hiding: Professional government is a guild. Like medieval guilds. You can't serve in if you're not a member. If you haven't been indoctrinated into its arcane rituals. If you aren't in the club. And Trump isn't in the club. He brought in a bunch of people who aren't in the club with him. 
Now we're seeing what the pros do when amateurs try to walk in on them. They spy on them, they investigate them and they send them to jail. They use the tools of power to bring them down. That's not a free country. 
 
It's not a free country when FBI agents who support Hillary take out an 'insurance policy' against Trump winning the election. It's not a free country when Obama officials engage in massive unmasking of the opposition. It's not a free country when the media responds to the other guy winning by trying to ban the conservative media that supported him from social media. It's not a free country when all of the above collude together to overturn an election because the guy who wasn't supposed to win did. 
 
Have no doubt, we're in a civil war between conservative volunteer government and a leftist Democrat professional government. 
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Question
 
When you apply for Welfare in Mexico what does that Government give you? 
 
Answer -
 
A map of the United States
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Did some ride along's back in the seventies with the Boulder CO department. We came close to one of those incidents as guns were drawn but not fired. I'll spare the details but it was a tense few moments. Actually only seconds but seemed like a long time. I have a deep respect for the everyday beat cop ... he/she wants nothing more than to get safely home to family after each shift end! And prefer that everyone else do the same! 

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A Poem

'Twas the night before elections
And all through the town
Tempers were flaring
Emotions all up and down!

I, in my bathrobe
With a cat in my lap
Had cut off the TV
Tired of political crap.

When all of a sudden
There arose such a noise
I peered out of my window
Saw Obama and his boys

They had come for my wallet
They wanted my pay
To give to the others
Who had not worked a day!

He snatched up my money
And quick as a wink
Jumped back on his bandwagon
As I gagged from the stink

He then rallied his henchmen
Who were pulling his cart
I could tell they were out
To tear my country apart!

On Fannie, on Freddie,
On Biden and Ayers!
On Acorn, On Pelosi'
He screamed at the pairs!

They took off for his cause
And as he flew out of sight
I heard him laugh at the nation
Who wouldn't stand up and fight!

So I leave you to think
On this one final note-
IF YOU DON'T WANT SOCIALISM
GET OUT AND VOTE!!!! 
 

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During my twenty years serving on the OCFD I got the job of assisting a baby delivery twice. I found this description 

better than any I could give: "watching a baby being born is a little like watching a wet St. Bernard coming in through a cat door."

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This is What Christmas is All About...
by unknown
 
Better bundle up - the goose bumps will freeze you!!  I think I need to read this every year at Christmas.
  
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities.  But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors.   It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.                                           
It was Christmas Eve 1881.  I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas.  We did the chores early that night for some reason.  I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.                                         
 
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible.  I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much  of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.  Soon Pa came back in.  It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see.  We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this.  But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told  them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens.  Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house.  Something was up, but I didn't know what..                                                            
 
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled.  Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job.   I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load.  Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand.  I reluctantly climbed up beside him.  The cold was already biting at me.  I wasn't happy.  When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed.  He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said.  "Here, help me."  The high sideboards!  It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.                                                         
 
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks  and splitting. What was he doing?  Finally I said something.  "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"  You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road.  Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight.  Sure, I'd been by, but so what?                                                     
 
Yeah," I said, "Why?"                                                 
  
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt."  That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him.  We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it.  Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a  side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait.  When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his r ight shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked.  Shoes, they're  out of shoes.  Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning.  I got the children a little candy too.  It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
                                                        
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence.  I tried to think through what Pa was doing.  We didn't have much by worldly standards.  Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most  of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it.  We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy?  Really, why was he doing any of this?  Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern. 
 
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door.  We knocked.  The door opened a crack and a timid voice said,  "Who is it?"  "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"    
  
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in.  She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.  The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly  gave off any heat at all.  Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.                        
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour.  I put the meat on the table.  Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it.  She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time.  There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last.  I watched her carefully.  She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started  running down her cheeks.  She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say   
something, but it wouldn't come out.                                   
 
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said.  He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile.  Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up."  I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood.  I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too.  In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. 
 
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul.  I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference.  I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.                                                                
 
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared.  The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time.  She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you.  The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."                                   
 
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again.  I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true.  I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth.  I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others.  The list seemed endless as I thought on it.      
 
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left.  I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get.  Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.  
 
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave.  Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug.  They clung to him and didn't want us to go.  I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.                        
 
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow.  The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals.  We'll be by to get you about eleven.  It'll be nice to have some little ones around again.  Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell."  I was the youngest.  My two brothers and two sisters  had all married and had moved away.                                                                  
  
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles.  I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."         
 
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold.  When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something.  Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square.  Your ma and me were real excited,  thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that,but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do.  Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."                                                      
  
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again.  I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it.  Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities.  Pa had given me a lot more.  He  had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. 
 
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much  more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.       
 
Don't be too busy today.  Share this inspiring message.  God bless you!
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Great post Don.

 

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A Christmas Story
 
Their father was gone..

The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.
 
Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would  scramble to hide under their beds.

He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries.

Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings.... but no more food either.

If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.

I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy, and drove off to find a job.

The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town.

No luck.

The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whoever would listen, that I was willing to learn or do anything.

I had to have a job.

Still no luck.

The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, 
was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted into a truck stop.

It was called the Big Wheel.

An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time looking at all those kids.

She said she needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning.

She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people.

I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job.

And so I started at the Big Wheel.

When I got home in the mornings, I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-- fully half of what I averaged every night.

As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires!

There was no note, no anything. Just those beautiful brand new tires.

Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.

I made a deal with the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids.

I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.

Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve, the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. There were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine.

The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.

I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat.

Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10!

I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans.

Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes.

There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items.

And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through the empty streets, as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude.

And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious Christmas morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop....
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SENIOR DRESS CODE FOR 2019
 
Many of us over 50 – WAY over 50 – are quite confused about how we should present
ourselves. We're unsure about the kind of image we are projecting and whether
or not we are correct as we try to conform to current fashions.  And for those of you
receiving this who are nowhere near 50 yet, keep reading anyway – you'll be there.
 
Despite what you may have seen on the streets, the following combinations DO NOT go together and
should be avoided:
 
1.  A nose ring and bifocals
 
2.  Spiked hair and bald spots
 
3.  A pierced tongue and dentures
 
4.  Miniskirts and support hose
 
5.  Ankle bracelets and corn pads
 
6.  Speedos and cellulite
 
7.  A belly button ring and a gall bladder surgery scar
 
8.  Unbuttoned disco shirts and a heart monitor
 
9.  Midriff shirts and a midriff bulge
 
10.  Pierced nipples that hang below the waist
 
11.  Bikinis and liver spots
 
12.  Short shorts and varicose veins
 
13.  In-line skates and a walker
 
And the ultimate 'Bad Taste' in fashion:
 
14.  A thong and Depends
 
(Please keep these basic guidelines foremost in your mind when you shop.) 
 

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