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Pearl Harbor

Fri, 12/28/2018 - 7:53am

I just watched the movie “Pearl Harbor” for the first time. I’m glad I did. I wish I hadn’t. I’m glad because it showed an America that existed before. They were a lot like us today in some ways. They had hopes, and dreams. They had parties on the beach. They knew about the rising war in Europe. But that war was far away. And they believed in America!

They believed America to be the greatest nation in history. They believed that everything that was American was the best. They believed in the president. When it all came down to it, it was “us” against “them.” “They” were Japanese. Japs, Nips, Slopes. Yeah, it was racist. There was no room for political correctness as the Arizona went down. America focused, and yes, there was hate speech. There was hate speech because we hated the Japanese for what they did on December 7, 1941. And we settled the score with Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Nobody in America doubted the wisdom of that. They had it coming. Pearl Harbor had devastated us. We made America great again. And it stayed great for a very long time.

Until now. America is so divided that our president can’t get chump change to string a barb-wire fence along our border, but one hundred and eleven million dollars is allocated to study the effects of cocaine on jackasses. The animal, not members of the Democratic Party! And our border guards are blamed for the deaths of children, ignoring the fact that THEY didn’t being the children to the New Mexican desert. THEY are the ones to took the children to the hospital!

I wish I hadn’t watched the movie because the Boy Scouts are now the UniScouts. Unwrapping condoms has now replaced knot tying. Any disagreements are referred to as hate speech. Senators call people racist when they simply don’t want people streaming into our country illegally to do harm. Just like that day at Pearl Harbor. America cannot stand together as long as our government is divided along party lines. As long as those divisions are orchestrated by pre-ordained understandings. If you are this, you must believe that, or if you are that, you must believe this.

America has always extended open arms to people wanting to have a good life. It also heals those that it defeated in war. It rebuilt the hated enemy, Japan. Today, when Japanese tourists visit the memorial above the Arizona, they frequently weep. They weep remembering why the Arizona is down there, still leaking oil, and after the war what America did to allow them to visit it as welcomed tourists.

My son tells me he cannot watch Pearl Harbor. Understand why. It brings out the best and the worse in you. Watching those young men and women dodge bombs, fire, and bullets, where the night before they’d considered their station a dream job. Then, you look at America today, and just thank God that the Japanese like us now!

The Butcher Shop

The post Pearl Harbor appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Saving Karrie

Thu, 12/27/2018 - 8:44am

But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. Jesus

Saving Karrie


The house in Texas had grown lonely since the kids went back to Brigham City. The day after they leave is always bad. Where the day before the grill would have been churning out bacon and eggs, hot chocolate in the coffee pot, and our little dog, Cleo, in everybody’s business looking for a treat. The day after there is nothing. Absolute solitude.

When Joe died he’d left everyone set up. All of his military benefits rested on his five little “buddies,” and his wife. He formally adopted the children just weeks before his death. He’d married their mother to share the same with her. That, and to get her needed care for her heart. In return we all cared for the “Old Sarge” during his final days. There were three houses, two in Texas, and of course the “Big Blue House in Utah. The houses in Texas were fairly normal. His original house was the classic “VA” prototype, with the obligatory closet near the front door, one car garage that Joe had long ago converted into an apartment, complete with full bath, and a country porch that’s extended the width of the rear. Indeed, the house was twice as big as when he bought it, and he’d built it in a woodshed that’s he’d built, too. Pam and I owned the other house in Texas but had given it solely to her during our “divorce.”

But the Big Blue House was a wonderland! Six thousand square feet, three floors, resting at the foot of Wasatch Mountains smack in the middle of an apple orchard. There was a basement, if you could call it that, for Joe had laid out plans to remodel before he died, and his widow, Pam, had kept the plans, implementing them according to his instructions, turning it into a house beneath a house.

Joe had picked Brigham City because it reminded him of his childhood home in upstate New York. The snow on the mountains, the small town air, and Mormons! Joe didn’t buy into their religion, but had no problem with people who minded their own business, and their kids wore dress shirts and dresses to school. That, and his disabled vet tags on his car caused endless, “Thank you for your services” at the local Walmart.

But America didn’t thank Joe for his service. It left him with the ticking time bomb called “Agent Orange” and a year ago that time bomb went off! Joe now rested in the San Antonio National Cemetery, while his buddies enjoyed the fruits of his labor fifteen hundred miles away.

The kids were all ten and younger. There was the “New Baby,” so called because he was, well, the new baby. He’d become Joseph Stevin TarajosThe last to be born. Taken by the Child Protective Services on the very day of his birth, and given to my former wife. My daughter in law, Jackie, and my son had come under investigation by the department, and rather than see the children scattered among foster homes, my then wife, Pam stepped up to the plate and took the children. Because I stood by Jackie I presented a problem. Jackie wasn’t allowed to be around the kids, ergo if I were around Jackie, than I couldn’t be around them either. When it was all said and done, Pam and I engineered our own divorce, and she formally adopted the babies, with New Baby bringing up the rear.

Next were the Twins, Chris, and Nick. Chris never settled on a nickname, but Nick quickly became “Nick the Lawyer” by virtue of his mouth. Then Justin. When the CPS adopts there is a name change in an effort to give the child a fresh start on life. Originally Justin had been named after his deceased uncle Bobby, but he was old enough to remember his birth name. When it came time to change he picked “Justin” for Justin Bieber. His nickname became “Just a Bobby.”

Then there was Karrie. The oldest. Spitting image of Jackie, and smart as a whip. When she was a toddler she’d scamper around the floor of the studio back in Berry Creek, a country club neighborhood just north of Austin. YouTube was in its infancy, and Karrie’s mother, Jackie, had morphed into YouTube’s “iJackie.” Countless hours of film and production, with baby girl at her feet. We used an eMac computer to render the videos. The machine came with a little circular mouse called a “Puck” due to its resemblance to a


hockey puck. All through the day the little girl would hear, “Give me the puck,” and “Move the puck there.” One day little Karrie looked at her mother and said, “I’m the Puck!” And she remained “Puck” until this very day.

But Puck had luggage. While Pam navigated the stormy waters of adoption the children had found themselves in the foster care system. We will never know what happened during those hours, but it left Puck with a little known condition called Reactive Attachment Disorder, RAD! And it left her talking to angels. Just like the song says, they called her out by her name!

Puck could spin a yarn better than Mark Twain, and unless you knew what you were dealing with you’d buy the whole bill of goods. She confused the past with the present, and would impugn past wrongs done to her on her current caregiver. She was also a type one diabetic. As she grew older she searched her troubled mind for answers, answers we could not give her. She was iJackie’s daughter. She was “living proof!” But these things had to remain buried for a later, more mature mind.

She went to school like any other child. She wanted to belong, to fit in. She possessed a remarkable gift of gab, and when other little girls would relate a story, Puck could always best them. And she was beautiful. So beautiful that she would make a young Shirley Temple look like a street urchin. She’d lived in a mansion in Berry Creek, and been to Hollywood! And here she was comparing notes with a bunch of little girls who thought a trip to see the temple in Salt Lake City was a very big deal. Puck told her stories, and she bid the stories to multiply.

On this particular day I found myself sitting alone on the back porch in Texas. Cigarette, coffee, and an iPhone grinding out my daily article for The Amazing Doc Greene in Houston, and the Tea Party Tribune. There was sadness in my heart, but as Joe had admonished me on the day he died, “Men don’t cry!” Then the phone rang.

Pam called, out of her mind with fear. A great catastrophe had befallen the Big Blue House. Our safe haven had been turned upside down, and Joe’s legacy was in danger of being destroyed. I could hardly believe my ears. When I hung up I only had one person I could call. My best friend. A truck driving psychologist called Brother Theo. He answered the phone, and all I could say was, “They’re taking Karrie!”


The outside temperature was just right, it was three a.m. The road was practically mine. I was running the best piece of equipment money can buy across I40 in California about twenty miles east of the dead tree wilderness which I was planning on reaching in about ten minutes.

It’s called ‘fool moon, no stars’. Running a big truck over the triple digit mark late at night in the land of the CHP. I had my bird dog, a radar detector that has been worth every cent of the twenty six hundred dollars I paid for it nearly twenty years ago, and letting Trans Siberia Orchestra rip through The Three Kings and I.

The speed limit for big trucks in Cali is fifty five miles per hour, and while I am not a particularly criminal person, I do often break laws that are, well, stupid. Fifty five is stupid on I40 in California, so I doubled it; which brings us to about mile marker seventy five when my phone went off.

A soothing female voice informed me in an Australian accent that the caller was from one of the handful of people I take calls from, so I muted the music and throttled down to a speed more conducive to safety while taking a call.

“It’s me.” said the voice on the other end of the line.

I sat forward a bit to give myself a better look at my mirrors and said “So it seems. You’d better not be ordering Falafel bud, we’re all out of hominy grits.”

There was silence on the other end that went on long enough to make me wonder if cell tower proximity had contributed to that number of fewest dropped calls my phone company used to brag about when the caller said “They’re taking Karrie.”

It was my oldest friend; maybe my only friend, and Karrie is his granddaughter. “No they are not.” I said matter of factly.

“I’ve got the petition right here.”he said. I listened to the silence and thought for a minute.

“Where is she now? I asked.

“Utah.” The word seemed to fill the cabin of my truck with despair.

“Beyond our conventional sources” my voice was calming. “But not beyond our reach. When is the hearing?” It’s funny how talking to a disembodied voice out in the dark, dark desert floating on an ocean of darkness from the inside of a passing ship, with its muted, blinking lights makes a person feel.

“They already had it. Had it Friday.” Friday had been earlier the same day. The voice seemed farther away. “Ted, they had it without even telling Pam that she was being investigated.”

“Uh huh.” I grunted shifting down to fifty five and setting the cruise.”And the municipal court date?”

“Monday.” came the terse reply.

“She got an attorney?”

“No. I think she’s in shock Ted. She’s barely making any sense.” Since none of this made much sense to me it seemed that Karrie’s mom wouldn’t have much to work with in the way of making sense, and I said so. “Just tell me what to do.”

Those words coming across so many miles, across earth, into space, and back to earth again sobered me. In the forty odd years I have been friends with, and partnered with Wilbur,”Bill the Butcher” Witt, I had never heard him ask that question. Doing some rough calculations in my head I asked him to send the state’s formal petition to my email. Next I told him that Karrie’s mom would be needing an attorney in court that Monday morning to file for a continuance. “Don’t pick someone out of the phone book. Find out who lives right there in Brigham City and is connected to the bishopric

.”You think there’s a mormon connection?” he asked.

It’s Utah ain’t it?”


The Butcher Shop

The post Saving Karrie appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


Thu, 12/27/2018 - 6:50am

By Jeffrey E. Elliott, Esq.

The longstanding populist view of the general attitude towards American immigration can be summed up by the well-known and oft quoted poem associated with the Statue of Liberty. And who could not be inspired?

                                 “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
Emma Lazarus

Because of the inspiring sentiments of the above poem by Emma Lazarus; the historical context of the beginnings and formation of the United States; the vast untamed American continent awaiting cultivation, industry and settlement and the general belief in manifest destiny most Americans thought the border’s door or path to American citizenship should be wide open. To have a contrarian opinion was a negative outlook and unamerican.

However, was this general populist view really the viewpoint of the young American republics founding fathers and leading citizens? Or is the general liberal idea regarding an open border globalist approach, based on the founding father’s perspective and policy only a populist myth?

Let’s examine some contrarian opinions by the founding fathers and colonial leading citizens against this populist notion of open borders and globalism.  Consider the following opinion by the American founding father Alexander Hamilton in “Examinations of Jefferson’s Message to Congress”.

“The opinion advanced [by Jefferson,] is undoubtedly correct, that foreigners will generally be apt to bring with them attachments to the persons they have left behind; to the country of their nativity, and to its particular customs and manners. They will also entertain opinions on government congenial with those under which they have lived; or, if they should be led hither from a preference to ours, how extremely unlikely is it that they will bring with them that temperate love of liberty, [italics in original] so essential to real republicanism? There may, as to particular individuals, and at particular times, be occasional exceptions to these remarks, yet such is the general rule. The influx of foreigners must, therefore, tend to produce a heterogeneous compound; to complicate and confound public opinion; to introduce foreign propensities. In the composition of society, the harmony of the ingredients is all-important, and whatever tends to a discordant intermixture must have an injurious tendency.”
(“Examinations of Jefferson’s Message to Congress of December 7th, 1801,” Jan. 12, 1802) ( see: )

Most certainly, Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton points, regarding unrestrained and unregulated migration are as valid today as their opinions were in 1801-1802. The tremendous influx of migrants holding anti-American views by adopting Sharia law and political Islam, which undermines the American constitution clearly manifests the notion expressed by these fathers “ in the composition of society, the harmony of the ingredients is all important, and whatever tends a discordant intermixture must have an injurious tendency” ( Examinations of Jefferson’s Message to Congress of December 7th 1801, Jan 12, 1802). Clearly, individual thought and divergence is accepted, but not immigration to the point that an “injurious tendency” will create a divisions of such opposite values that the polarization of society is so great and similar values so difficult to obtain that social discourse and civil order breaks down, such as is evident in many middle eastern nations.

Founding father Thomas Jefferson raises the issue of uncontrolled immigration to the early American States in his Notes on Virginia. Jefferson said,

“Yet from such [absolute monarchies], we are to expect the greatest number of emigrants. They will bring with them the principles of the governments they leave, imbibed in their early youth; or if able to throw them off, it will be in exchange for an unbounded licentiousness, passing as is usual, from one extreme to another. It would be a miracle were they to stop precisely at the point of temperate liberty. Their principles with their language, they will transmit to their children. In proportion to their numbers, they will share with us in the legislation. They will infuse into it their spirit, warp and bias its direction, and render it a heterogeneous, incoherent, distracted mass.”
(“Notes on Virginia,” 1782) ( see : )

Jefferson is well-known as more accepting of the founding fathers as to new immigrants and arrivals to the young American States nonetheless also opined caution. In regards, to the allowance of immigrants particular to the types of political views new arrivals may endorse.  Jefferson further concluded,


“These principles, with their language, they will transmit to their children. In proportion to their numbers, they will share with us the legislation. They will infuse into it their spirit, warp and bias its direction, and render it a heterogeneous, incoherent, distracted mass.

I may appeal to experience, during the present contest, for a verification of these conjectures. But, if they be not certain in event, are they not possible, are they not probable? Is it not safer to wait with patience 27 years and three months longer, for the attainment of any degree of population desired, or expected? May not our government be more homogeneous, more peaceable, more durable?

Suppose 20 millions of republican Americans thrown all of a sudden into France, what would be the condition of that kingdom? If it would be more turbulent, less happy, less strong, we may believe that the addition of half a million of foreigners to our present numbers would produce a similar effect here. If they come of themselves, they are entitled to all the rights of citizenship: but I doubt the expediency of inviting them by extraordinary encouragements.”  (Notes on Virginia, 1782) ( see )

Quite frankly, Jefferson’s warnings are very significant regarding immigration to the United States in 21st century America. That is, to allow unrestricted and mass immigration into the United States will jeopardize the traditional western values of the American republic, including fundamental constitutional values. As an example, admittance of a massive influx of immigrants from Islamic nations holding that Sharia law is superior to the United States constitution will have a similar effect utilizing Jefferson’s analogy of allowing 20 million American republicans into monarchical France.

Naturally, Jefferson is referencing a dual argument concerning substantial demographic arguments and significant and sustained changes in traditional values. If during the reign of a French monarch 20 million American republicans suddenly migrated to France the traditional French monarchy could collapse, and French values be dramatically and substantially changed. Jefferson argued, that the sudden massive influx of migrants would bring “turbulence, less happy, less strong” nation and thus not in the national interests of France. Jefferson further postulated that similar effects of uncontrolled immigration could also happen in the United States (see Notes on Virginia, 1782)

In the Federalist, No. 2, John Jay provided fair comment on the rather homogeneous nature of the American European population. Many have attempted to criticize Jay’s comments, because the skeptics have wished to take issue with homogeneous versus diversity. These critics miss the mark. Jay was putting the argument forward in general terms. His argument is that the general traditions are not so diverse, in that, Western Judeo-Christian culture was the underpinning, which generally united the various European immigrants to America. Jay postulates as follows in Federalist No. 2.

“With equal pleasure I have as often taken notice that Providence has been pleased to give this one connected country to one united people–a people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion, attached to the same principles of government, very similar in their manners and customs, and who, by their joint counsels, arms, and efforts, fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established general liberty and independence.” (See Federalist No. 2, John Jay) (see: )

John Jay

A close reading of Federalist No. 2 reveals John Jay’s common-sense approach, in that, he acknowledged the common union and bond within the context of western Judeo-Christian culture. Moreover, Jay accepts that a homogeneous people have been prepared to accept and adopted the principles of the American Constitution, Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights as these founding documents were introduced to the people with the context of western culture and the age of enlightenment. These concepts were first made fertile in the minds of the colonists through the writings of their fellow Europeans.

John Quincy Adams insisted that the immigrant must be prepared to support themselves and not rely on government welfare or aid packages to assist their immigration to the United States. John Quincy Adams stated the following

“It was explicitly stated to you, and your report has taken just notice of the statement, that the government of the United States has never adopted any measure to encourage or invite emigrants from any part of Europe. It has never held out any incitements to induce the subjects of any other sovereign to abandon their own country, to become inhabitants of this (Country).” ( see In 1819, John Quincy Adams to Secretary of State) (see: )

Thus, in a letter to the Secretary of State, John Quincy Adams addressed his policy towards immigration. He was concerned that immigrants may belief that their migration to the United States would be assisted by public welfare and the United States did not have the financial ability to support a massive influx of immigrants. Sound familiar?

Massive migrations of persons from Africa, the Middle East, Asia and South America wish to escape their home countries and cash in on generous American benefits. These migrants will pass up offers from countries closer geographically, culturally, ethnically and more similar in religion and traditions, in order, to get the free benefits offered by America. Is this the type of migrant America should be accepting?

For instance, recently, massive caravans from Latin America attempted to illegally migrate to the United States. Countless numbers of these migrant refused to accept legal immigrant status from culturally similar Latin American nations, because the caravans wanted the financial benefits offered by the United States. Should not these immigrants accept a refugee status from a closer nation, which has a similar culture and language? Is not the founding fathers and other leading American warnings sufficient enough to keep America from self-destruction through migrant overload?

President George Washington known for his liberal approach towards immigration also believed rational, reasonable and common-sense precautions should be employed towards immigration issues and to control open border immigration. Said Washington.

“T] he policy or advantage of [immigration] taking place in a body (I mean the settling of them in a body) may be much questioned; for, by so doing, they retain the Language, habits and

principles (good or bad) which they bring with them. Whereas by an intermixture with our people, they, or their descendants, get assimilated to our customs, measures and laws: in a word, soon become one people. “– George Washington (letter to John Adams, 15 November 1794)  

In the modern era, President Washington is raising legitimate questions concerning cultural assimilation and integration into the greater American society, which clearly includes the adoption of western Judeo-Christian values. President Washington as revealed in his 1794 letter to John Adams was vehemently opposed to balkanization, dissimilation and cultural resistance to the ideals and traditions of the age of enlightenment and the foundations of western Judeo-Christian culture.

Of course, it is true, none of the founding fathers were altogether opposed to foreign immigration, but none of these men endorsed a free open border and globalist policy either. The founding fathers were practical thinkers and realized that limits had to be placed on immigration and faithfully enforced


The Winter Divorce

Wed, 12/26/2018 - 3:39pm

I prefer summer divorces to winter ones. Being married six times I’m really up on the divorce thing. It comes with practice. The first one always tears you up. You invest so much into the relationship, only to find out your significant other had a far range of investments and you weren’t so significant after all.

My first ex took everything. The car, family Bible, the dog and the Christmas tree. I drove out into the desert to die. Few hours of that nonsense and I settled for a beer. Now, I’m not saying your hands don’t shake for a couple weeks, but one day you will wake up in the morning and find that coffee, not her, is the first thing that comes to mind. Then, of course, you gotta go through the bitter stage. Hold women at a distance. If you’re lucky you meet Miss Bitter who’s going through the same thing. That’s always special. Then you remarry thereby proving that you two haven’t learned a single thing.

All my ex’s left me, I never left them. That should tell you something about my dynamite personality. And I’ve had ‘em all. An Indian, a Jew, Yankee, Mexican, you name it. I’m actually still with the last one. Today is our thirty-second anniversary. Got married during shows in Branson Missouri. I’m not gonna go through all the ups and downs, suffice to say we’re used to each other.

I’ve never been much for girlfriends. My only come on line was, “Will you marry me?” Hey, stop laughing. It worked six times in a row didn’t it? Last one just stuck, that’s all. But I could never figure out the dating thing. That, and I’m quite the slob. I’m color blind so when I choose my own clothes I look like a mustard and jelly sandwich. It was a must that all my wives picked my clothes for me. When I’m single I just by jeans and shirts all the same color, which solves the color match problem but gives the impression that I never change clothes.

I looked real hard at polygamy some time back. It was after considering how much I would have saved if instead of all the divorcing I just added one more to the home team. Muslims do that. Mormons too, but they lie about it. The way I understand they can be sealed to one wife. If others come along they can be licked, but not sealed. I thought it was a great idea. Nobody else did. Guess I’m ahead of my time.

Winter divorces leave you cold, literally. As bad as a relationship may be if she’s alive she’s warm. That counts for a lot when you’re cozying up to a chihuahua. Summer divorces find you outside. Also the girls dress different which allows you to check out qualifications. Above all, don’t hate or be jealous. Ain’t no future in that. Someone will always come along. Six someones came along for me.

The Butcher Shop

The post The Winter Divorce appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Bipartisanship Is Another Word for Ignoring the Base

Tue, 12/25/2018 - 2:22pm

Here’s how the Opposition Media’s beloved “bipartisan cooperation” works among the residents of Incumbentstan here in Washington, DC. Republicans join leftists to proudly pass a “prison reform” bill that is of absolutely no importance to the conservative base that keeps Washington country club conservatives in offices.

But all passage of “prison reform” really proves is Curator of the Senate Mitch McConnell and retiring Boy Ryan are more than willing to quickly pass a bill that speeds the process of putting illegals in prison back out on the street; but they won’t spend a dime to prevent illegals currently out of the country from finding a way back in.

Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch, OH

In fact, McConnell is having trouble keeping his utter disdain for the base that elects him in check. His latest disingenuous move is a continuing spending resolution that pushes wall funding into February when Nancy Pelosi will be running the House.

Building the wall, deporting illegals and citizen–first immigration reform were the issues that elected President Trump. That should have been the primary focus of his administration from the beginning.

Trump did face a unique situation. First, he didn’t expect to win, which is something he and Hillary had in common. He had to scramble to staff his administration. It was chaos. The only difference between the product of Trump’s HR department and Uber’s was Trumps staffers didn’t assault women. Oh, wait. Well at least not as many as Uber drivers.

He was closest advisors were Democrats, daughter Ivanka and son–in–law Jared. Neither of whom would have voted for any other Republican candidate running on Dad’s issues. Staff slots went to closet Never–Trumpers who opposed his immigration plans and careerists dragging their feet because they were afraid Trump’s policies would kill future job prospects with housebroken conservatives and big donors after they left the administration.

I also suspect Trump was naïve. He probably assumed after he achieved an unprecedented upset what passes for Republican leadership would be eager to fall in line behind policies that obviously resonated with the electorate. The bumptious outsider and the wily insiders would pass important legislation while the opposition was stunned and before the investigations began.

Trump should have realized it was him against the world when prissy McConnell contemptuously dismissed Trump’s first budget with a wave of his dainty hand.

Trump should’ve started publically making the case for his signature legislation then and there. It should have contained all funding for the wall; nationwide, retroactive EVerify for all jobs; criminal sanctions for employers who hire illegals and a tax on over–the–border remittances to fund a stepped–up program of deportations.

First step would’ve been passage in the House, followed by internment in the Senate. But Trump could’ve been patient. Then when the next spending bill came up he could inform McConnell that he won’t sign any budget bill unless his immigration reform is passed.

Curator McConnell’s dirty secret is it doesn’t really take 60 votes to pass legislation in the Senate. And he doesn’t need any Democrats either. All the Curator must do is return to the filibuster rules that were in effect until 1975. Then a simple majority is enough.

Yes, there would’ve been wailing and gnashing of teeth, but so what? It would have been worth the turmoil and potential loss of the House in the 2018 mid–terms to get that bill passed. Now we’ve lost the House and have nothing to show for it.

Instead Trump did nothing. He tweeted while the border burned. Last week he said he would embrace a Trump Shutdown if he didn’t get just the wall. Earlier this week he said he’d sign the spending bill without the wall. As this is written, Trump says he’s not going to sign the bill.

So, who knows? My bet is Trump will botch his last chance for a wall.

Illegal immigration matters to some of us. My wife’s best friend was killed by a drunk driving illegal. After we moved to Virginia another drunk driving illegal killed a friend we made here. My daughter has had two cars totaled by illegals. I was rear–ended by an anchor baby. (By the way, where is Trump’s executive order ending the anchor baby scam?) We certainly aren’t alone in this. We’re just ignored.

We read that when Ivanka gets teary–eyed, her father often responds forcefully. I’m hoping in the next few days one of the First Daughter’s friends will have a bad experience with an illegal. Maybe he’ll take that parking spot at the mall the friend was waiting for or he’ll prune the wrong tree. Something that really engages upper Manhattan emotions.

If only Ivanka chokes up again, maybe her father will stop choking on the wall.

The post Bipartisanship Is Another Word for Ignoring the Base appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

A Christmas Story

Mon, 12/24/2018 - 12:42pm

It had been eight months since we lost Joe. I still remember that last night. His request for his dog, Cleo, and an order of chicken wings. It had been a long year. Feverishly rushing to Salt Lake City for blood, and back to Austin for chemo.

He resisted using oxygen, and hated the Hoveround. I finally convinced him to use the motorized chair by showing him it operated like a tank. After that he, and New Baby would do figure “8’s” in the living room. He’d sit on the back porch. There wasn’t much room, and we had to put a little ramp down to accommodate the chair, but he’d find his way out there most days. There were good days, and bad days. Bad days he didn’t leave the couch. Good days would see him sitting on the porch. The neighbor behind us was building a Wood shop.

Joe had a wood shop at his house. Before his illness he would spend hours working there. Joe wasn’t a carpenter, he was an artist! The front door of his house didn’t come from Home Depot, he carved it from Redwood. He carved portraits into wooden planks. His brother in New York had sent him all the special woods. They didn’t look like much, about the size of a floor tile, but when he was done something or someone would be immortalized in the grain. He explained the grains and different woods to me, but I was clueless. He wasn’t, though. To him wood was forever alive. He told me the images were already there. He just removed the excess.

That last day, as he fed the wings to his little dog, I wiped my eye. “Men don’t cry,” he said. I did, though. To see this man, with three bronze stars, a silver, a purple heart and the Medal of honor concerned himself with feeding that dog at the VA was a little much for me. Joe was missing in action in Vietnam. Got overrun. Presumed dead. Reported back for duty in thirty days wearing ”someone’s” black pajamas and sandals. Now all he thought about his little dog, and yes, I cried that day.

The priest came in to administer the last rites. Joe didn’t have any sins to confess. I told him he could borrow some of mine. Within the hour it didn’t matter anyway. I had taken the dog home, and was about to return to the hospital when I got a simple text, “He’s gone.” I stared at those words for a very long time. I still have a screen shot on my iPhone. How ironic for a man’s life to boil down to, “He’s gone!” In his last moment he looked at his wife, said, “Oh baby,” and just left us.

The months went by. We watched all his “Buddies,” to see how his death had affected them. You know, you can never tell what’s in a child’s mind, or what level of understanding they have, but sometimes it shows and will humble you. Joe’s favorite was “New Baby.” When he finalized the adoptions, New Baby took his name. Joseph Steven Tarajos.

With all the ups and downs, the funeral, the probate, and all the rest, no one paid any mind to Joe, Jr. After all, he was just the baby. Christmas approached. There were two more trips to Utah between Joe’s death, and then. He’d bought a big blue house in Utah. His last building project remained unfinished.

The kids were now back in Texas for Christmas, setting up the tree and playing in Joe’s yard. Joe would usually be in his wood shop making toys. Then I heard a tap, tap, tap in the distance. It was then I noticed New Baby knocking on the door of the shop. A knock that would never be answered. He stood there perplexed staring at the unanswered door. I wiped another tear, but, men don’t cry.

The Butcher Shop

The post A Christmas Story appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The War We Fight Today

Mon, 12/24/2018 - 10:40am

Identity Wars Organic Cyber Warfare And The War We Fight Today

In the old days nothing was different and everything was different. For instance, if a warlord or a king, or some similar employer of a military force suitable to the task of taking by force an area say the size of France, and if they were possessed of a will to do so, they created an attack plan, built siege engines, set up a supply chain and took that area realm by realm.

Everything was the same you see, it was a world where men would rob men of their families, their homes, and finally their freedom; it was also different. It was a world where general technology and Warcraft limited such acts through the sheer volume of effort and risk incurred. In slavehood the survivors of war are those who quickly learn their new roles, and teach them to their children. This purge of a future or ongoing insurgency is crucial to managing the masses of newly conquered people who, for now, still dwell upon their own land. No tiger was ever tamed through brute force alone.

Let us put this idea to the test. When Caesar expanded the Roman Empire into France, he created an attack plan, built some siege engines, and took a sizable, trained military into Gaul (or France if you like) and conquered the people living therein, seizing their land as he did. Thereafter began a process of tearing down the old Gaul and building up a new Roman state. Three generations later, “Hey, we’re all Roman here, and if we aren’t, we wish we were.”

Contrast that with the outward signs of assimilation displayed by people in immigrant communities, and the comparison yields the inescapable conclusion that cultural assimilation proceeds more efficiently when there is some pressure to either mask or change your inner being. So. There it is: people make permanent shifts in their identities including values, traditional behaviors, affections and hatred, based on an undeniable need to fit in.

I’d have just started with that sentence, but my editor says more words. A fair question from you, patient reader, is “why is this important? After all I’m an American citizen. The freedom of my mind is explicitly protected from forcible change.”. Before we can consider its importance, the question of whether or not a threat exists to the ownership of our identities and the freedom to possess such and use them to shape our natural behaviors must be definitively answered.

Now me? I’m just a kind of “well if you’re looking for a pony, and there’s a lot of horse puckey lying around, you’re getting close” kind of guy. What can I say? Curse of the liberal. Anyway, I have a pretty good litmus test regardless. After deliberately setting aside all access to cynical ideology and denial, can you ever imagine letting the current state of America develop into what it is with yourself anywhere near the control panel? If the answer is yes, you are in the wrong joke. If the answer is no, please continue reading.

Okay, we are in the most precipitous position of vulnerability we have experienced as a nation in multigenerational memory. We have been successfully invaded without a military. Vast swathes of inner city are occupied territory. We are governed by those who hear nothing in the piteous cry that inspires aught but loathing in them. America is being led to the block, and everyone but the young and the willfully blind know it. But how?

Such is our knowledge of binary principles and logic that we have had to study it under many different lenses in order to truly quantify it. And why not? Beside carbon it rules our known universe unyieldingly. Binary coding is truly the key to everything; including our minds. Since everything that passes into or through your conscious mind enters and performs it’s function utilizing binary code.

Question two: do you believe that there is a way to buy up all or most of the binary coding likely to be experienced by people by categories? If the answer is no, take a left at the next exit and go straight to your public library, highlight this section and show it to the library staff: they will help you. If you answered yes, the long awaited end is just ahead. True genius has ruled us Americans at times. Sometimes America really has been number one; but in those times we would never had said so. I’ve always believed that competition and the spirit of freedom can only be truly felt when one is truly free; unencumbered by doubt or guilt, unwilling to either suffer the sins of the father nor to allow our sons to suffer for our own sins.

Our freedom of speech, that right that makes the freedom of our minds so explicit, should only be used if doing so might lead to a well intentioned change. Today you could examine the state of your freedom to be you. Today you could re-examine the security of your identity and the ways you manage your core principles in accordance with it. If today you were to ask yourself “Is this me? Do I believe in what I am doing and saying all the time?” Today could be different.

The Butcher Shop

The post The War We Fight Today appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Bump ‘em!

Sun, 12/23/2018 - 9:19am

From The Mind of a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas

I wonder since we have immigration laws that our lawmakers apparently think they don’t have to follow, We have laws against employers hiring illegals, with stiff fines to be imposed, and even prison sentences. If our own lawmakers can’t seem to follow the laws, why in the hell should we. Why should we hand over our bump stocks or any other damn thing we legally bought for our weapon systems just because these same lawless people want to make them illegal. Hell, they made illegal immigration illegal and you see how well those in power follow their own laws, If they can’t follow their own laws, why the hell should we follow their unconstitutional laws?

It’s the Federal Governments job to insure our borders are safe, however, it is not their job to restrict our ability to defend ourselves, our families and our country, They can’t follow their own laws, so why should we follow them into the abyss? It’s well past the time to think about that. Criminals are protected, while the ones who have played by the rules are the ones affected. Since I have family in law enforcement on here, Since I have friends who are in law enforcement on here, maybe some of you can tell the rest of us, why in the hell should we continue to follow our lawless elected leaders.

Since I have friends on here who are judges, retired military, tell me why we should be the ones who follow these lawless reckless politicians we call leaders. Most all of us took an Oath, that Oath was to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign or domestic. Why should these lawless politicians not be considered domestic enemies? Please tell us why?

Are we a Nation of Laws or aren’t we? I mean we live in a time when a judge or judges in our highest courts are making their own rules. Hell we have Sheriff’s and Police Chiefs making their own rules as well, not caring about the law of the land and not caring about the Constitution, Lawless thugs, making their own rules about who can and can’t carry a weapon, So please tell me since all these people seem to be able to make up their own version of the law, Why can’t we?

Don’t get me wrong, most LEO are great people, but even they have to start standing up for what’s right. So tell me, Why should we be held hostage to these people who care nothing about our laws and the principles of our founding fathers? We Swore to uphold those principles, and now look at us. Shame on you America for what we allowed. Some of you will understand FTF’s… So please tell me why we should obey the very laws that our elected leaders, judges, LEO, can’t seem to follow…People really want to know…We’re just wondering…

But what do I know? I’m just a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas!

The Butcher Shop

The post Bump ‘em! appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

CigarBox – At The SPJST

Sat, 12/22/2018 - 8:39am
  • The air was smoky in the dance hall situated out on the little desert highway in west Texas. Actually, it wasn’t a dance hall at all, but an auction barn used by local ranchers, and sometimes used for science fairs, and such. On selected nights, the locals would come as far as seventy-five miles to attend the festivities, bringing their own bottle, and girl to dance and get drunk. It was said that Willie Nelson had once played here; and even gotten drunk here just like everyone else before he was Willie Nelson. This wasn’t like a “club” in the larger towns. There were more fights, but then the boys would just dust off and go back in to drink more Lone Star Beer, and dance with the very girl they were fighting over in the first place. The main lure of the hall was the fact that it was out in the “back” and there was really no scrutiny over I. D. or age limits. Anyone could come, and so long as they didn’t pull a gun no questions were asked, no arrests were made. Girls became women; cowboys became movie stars at the S. P. J. S. T!

The building was just a big huge metal building. The floor had been used for everything from “socials” to auctions. There were long cafeteria-style tables running the length and width of it, and just barely enough room to squeeze onto the improvised dance floor. The band was always too loud and badly mixed, but the crowd could hear the beat and that was all that was needed to two-step. The walls were lined with the trappings of whatever event the preceding week had held. All sorts of bottles and paper bags were on the tables. The people all brought their own “set-ups” and made their drinks right there at the table.

It was not that June didn’t want to be here, she did! In west Texas this was about the most “happening” place one could find, but because her mother brought her she had to be slightly less than content. How could anything be cool if your mother brought you? No sixteen-year-old girl would be happy on a date with her mother. Her stepfather, Ray would have been with them, but he’d stayed home this particular night because of a persistent pain in his chest he attributed to the construction trade. He nailed shingles, and did dry wall work. He actually held a master plumbing license, but he would take

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any work he could find to support his family. He’d had these pains for a couple of years and was sure it was some kind of “sore muscle.” June’s mother, Barbara, was happy to sit at the table and watch. June was “hyper” enough for both of them. Always running out of time, always having to “do it now!” Even though she’d started the evening by not really wanting to be here, she fell very quickly into a mode of dance, and beer that the S.P.J.S.T. had plenty of.

While she was sitting at her table, she noticed a young man “eyeing” her from the far corner of the room. Funny about the eyes; there is a definite soul contact when you look into someone’s eyes. There is a surge, even if you really don’t like the person, and June was sure she wouldn’t like this guy. He was all decked out in his “cowboy” clothes. “He wouldn’t make a scab on my daddy’s butt,” she laughed to herself as she watched him stroke his mustache because he thought it appeared “cool” to do so. Still, she had the need to know if she could pull him in. She looked right at him, her clear blue eyes piercing his until he picked up his beer and walked over. He had his left thumb tucked in behind his “rodeo” belt buckle. “Give me a break,” June thought. Still she smiled.



“You here with anyone?”

“My mom.” How uncool! How uncool! She
thought. She looked over her shoulder at her mother who was trying to pretend she didn’t notice the exchange.

He was dressed for a night out on the town. He had his Resistol cowboy hat, his Garth Brooks style shirt and brand-new “501” jeans. The Justin Ropers on his feet were almost mandatory. About the only thing that was really functional for a real cowboy would be the boots, and maybe the hat. The belt had a rodeo buckle that should have been won and not bought. You could no more buy a rodeo buckle than you could buy a purple heart, or a medal of honor. To be sure, there were real cowboys at the hall that night, but they were not dressed as well, and were more into the beer and the dance than flitting around displaying themselves like a proud peacock at the zoo. To this young man the western wear was more of a “theme” than a necessity. If he were in New York, he’d have been in a suit with equal ease.

“Wanna dance?”

“Nah, why don’t you go get your beer and sit with us?”

June wasn’t much of a dancer. She knew a few steps, but she never really got into it. She preferred the edge of the crowd at the hall, and not the center of the dance floor. This ran contrary to her basic personality, which was gregarious by nature.

He wasn’t about to say no to the invitation to sit, but he hesitated for a moment. Then he said, “Sure, gimme a minute.” He walked back over to the other side of the room and picked up a twelve pack of beer that he’d been nursing for about an hour, and returned to June’s side of the room. He moved in behind the long “cafeteria” table and sat beside June.

“You come here much?”

“Nah,” she reached for one of his beers, “only when mom wants to.”

The boy looked over at June’s mother and touched his cowboy hat. She had the obvious look of an older woman trying to fit in, and smiled back at him. Her hair was tired, as were her eyes, and her face was bloated, and sagged with age. She had long ago lost the weight battle, but her choice of jeans proved she was in serious denial. June twisted open a beer, and put it to her lips. It was room temperature, but that didn’t matter. In west Texas, room temperature could be cool. It was relative. She never liked beer anyway,
but she needed to sip it for effect. She sat it on the table and let it sit there a moment, watching his eyes, and then took another swallow. Swallowing hard, she sat still for a moment, then stretching up her back she let out a low, slow belch.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Don’t know why I drink this stuff. I don’t like it.”

The cowboy took the opportunity, “Hey, not bad manners, just good beer. Anyway, I got something else in the truck that won’t make you belch,” he whispered.
She cut her eyes to her mom, “Tell her you gotta go to the toilet,” he whispered.

She smiled slyly, “Rock and roll.”

“Yeah. I got a blue truck, in back,” he motioned with his eyes.

He got up and made as if he needed to leave. June’s mother assumed he was going to relieve himself because he left the beer on the table. June gave it a minute or two and told her mother, “Hey, I gotta go… you know.”

“Ok, don’t get lost, ok?”

She got up and eased through the crowd toward the ladies room. As she neared it, she became lost in the crowd so that her mother could not see where she was heading. Then, a little right instead of a left, and she was outside in the parking lot. The night air was warm. Texas warm. Night air in the summer is not cool in Texas, but almost hot! The steamy air had bugs floating all in it, and she could pick up the distant, and not so distant odors drifting aimlessly through the air. Around the corner of the tin building, she heard a real cowboy throwing up. She felt the excitement build. She knew what was waiting in the truck, and she wanted it. She wanted it bad enough to go there and let the cowboy think anything he wanted to think. She began to walk around to the rear of the hall. There it was. A blue truck was sitting in the parking lot. It was the kind of truck that a fool like the “cowboy” would have. It had to be a four-wheel drive, even though he never went into the desert, and it simply must have a “crew cab” in the rear, even though he’d never have a “crew” to ride in it. And, since this was the only blue truck with a stupid drugstore cowboy standing beside it, she knew it was the one. She ran across the lot to the truck. He opened the door and she dove in.

“Ok, what ‘cha got?” She rubbed her hands together.
He reached under the seat and brought out the joint she knew was there. “I got the best dope Mexico has to offer, my sweet!”

June eyed the cigarette. Then she licked her lips. Part of the reason was in expectation of the high, and the other, she knew was to excite him and make sure she got the joint.

“Hey, let’s move the truck down by the river, ok? I don’t want anyone to see us.”

“Ok,” he said, realizing that this was most likely a good move on his part. He didn’t want to be caught in the parking lot of the S. P. J. S. T. hall smoking grass, and he wanted June alone, so it all worked out. He was a little nervous about taking his shiny new truck down onto the riverbank, but looking at June he figured it would be worth it. He started the truck and began to ease toward the edge of the lot, then onto the grass, then into the trees. He worked his way down an embankment to a long bridge that traversed the river near the dance hall. June could tell he was not experienced in four wheeling, but she hoped he could smoke dope better than he could drive on a riverbank. Stopping, he backed the pickup back a bit and when he turned off the motor, they could not be seen from the hall.

“Here,” he said as he lit the joint. Blowing onto the lit end of it, he handed her the cigarette. She took it and drew in the smoke; all the way down. Closing her eyes, she let the lung full of dreams take hold. Yes, this was much better than warm beer. This was far beyond that. Her stepfather, Ray, had taught her this trick years ago. She was an old hand at smoking. She was far better than this phony baloney cowboy who only had one joint that most likely Juan Sanchez had rolled for him while he grossly overcharged him for the drug. He made no effort to take the joint from her, but let her smoke all she wanted. She took another draw, embarrassed that she’d been so greedy with it.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be a ‘hawg.” As the drug took effect on her she turned on her best Texas twang that made her even more fetching than she was, if that were possible. Her eyes began to draw into slits, reflecting the thin line of blue. She took another hit from the joint, drawing it deep within her lungs, letting her perfect breasts swell, exciting the cowboy all the more. She leaned back and handed him the smoke.
He took the joint, “Oh, you ain’t no hog, hon, just lonely.” He took the chance to put in that word and turn the conversation toward her feelings, but she was already taking the “ride,” and didn’t care what he said, so long as the joint was lit.

“I’m not lonely, just need excitement. You know what I mean?”

She knew what that statement would do to him, and she wanted it to. She could hear him puff the joint eagerly. She knew a few well-placed words, the promise of love, would make this cowboy bark at the moon. June knew she was beautiful. This was her dance floor. She didn’t need to have everyone glaring at her as she jumped around like a fool, so long as she could hold the undivided attention of one cowboy at a time. She knew what he thought. He thought that if she’d just smoke enough of that dope she’d let him make love to her. Well, that depended upon just how good this joint was! She leaned back against his chest and let him put his hand over her shoulder. He began to work it down. Slowly running across the firm mounds of her breasts. She didn’t resist, and knew the feel of her body was driving him wild. She could actually hear his heart beat faster.

“How ya’ feeling?” His voice was quivering.

She felt her pulse quicken. Within a few short breaths she relaxed and lay back to where she’d really been all of her life. As the cowboy had his way with her she stared at a streetlight in the distance, near the dance hall. She detached herself from her body and, closing her eyes, she ventured out from it, and away to a smoky land that she went often when reality crashed in. Then, she drifted back and when the entire episode was over she lay there with the cowboy panting for a minute, and then she sat up and began to look for her clothes. He reached down on the floorboard and gave the jeans to her. She wondered if this man knew that
he’d just been with an underage girl. It didn’t matter, because such things happened on this riverbank all the time. The real miracle was that they found a place to park at all!

“Hey, my mom’ll be looking for me. I need to get back,” she said between short gulps of air.

She made a last minute adjustment of her belt, and she checked her bra, dodging his parting kiss, quickly opened the door of the truck, scampered up the hill, and was across the lot, and back to the hall. June was laughing to herself thinking about him trying to figure out how to get that shiny new truck back up the embankment to the dance hall. She knew he was no four-wheeler. The cowboy was amazed at how agile she was. He was tired, and out of breath, and truly he didn’t go back into the hall, because he did realize what he’d just done, and he wanted to just get out of there before anything was said to the fat woman he’d seen sitting at the table with June. It would be a long time before he would come back to the hall again.
Once back inside the hall, June went to the rest room, straightened up a bit more, and emerged. Glancing at the clock, she guessed she’d been gone about twenty minutes. When she came back to the table her mother was waiting, “Where you been?”

“Hey, in the bathroom, ok?”

“You were too long in the bathroom. Where’s that boy at?”

June knew she had to admit, but she tried to cushion it by delaying a few moments. Then, “Ok, ok…I went outside with him a minute; just to talk, you know?”

From The Mind of a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas


America Needs A Serious Makeover

The Families First Prevention Act

A World Gone Mad

Middle East 101

The Butcher Shop

The post CigarBox – At The SPJST appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Middle East 101

Fri, 12/21/2018 - 7:35am

So, pulling our troops out of Syria will destabilize the area? Let me ask you, when has the area ever BEEN stabilized? All it takes is two thousand American troops to whip all of ISIS? What happened to Mohammed? To Allah? Israel can whip five or six countries over there in six days, and never once did one American soldier have to fire a shot. The Jews launch a plane and the towel heads run for the mosque!

Arabs are good at flying planes into buildings, or cutting the heads off pretty girls, but fall short when it comes to real battle with trained troops. We have bowed and scraped for years because the Bushes had a pipeline to Middle Eastern oil, but guess what? Texas is open for business again and Russia doesn’t need their oil either. China? You can’t put gasoline in a bicycle!

Contrary to what you read in the Bible the world does not revolve around the Middle East. It revolves around America, Russia, and China. It used to revolve around Europe, but they got stupid and let the sand fleas all move into the basement. Now not only have they lost freedom of speech, they’ve lost freedom to dress, pray, think, or eat. China didn’t do that. Russia didn’t do that. Texas didn’t do that. Notice I left America out? That’s because the Nortés are finding themselves on the same slippery slope that France, Germany, and England did when they let the help move in and run the show.

The Middle East is, and always has been the butthole of the world. The only democracy that ever developed there was present day Israel. King David wasn’t democratic. He was a war mongering, adulterous despot. Saw the wife of one of his commanders taking a bath on her roof and killed her husband so he could sleep with her. BATHsheba! Wonder what her name would have been if David had seen her taking a dump?

The ancient Israel was a welcome mat for any nation that wanted to stomp a mud hole in it and walk it dry. It wasn’t until 1947 when the present day Israel was formed in the image of America, THAT America, not this franchise we have today, that the Middle East had a real democracy filled up with white folks. And that’s the real problem, folks. Ali Baba can’t stand a bunch of New York Jews out distancing them in practically every aspect. Ok, I get it. Muslims came up with algebra. And when was that? They kinda stagnated, don’t you think?

We DO need to build a wall. Around the Middle East with Israel protected. And fill it up with water! But really, the civilized world needs to seal off all dealings with that region. Let them fight it out. Hell! Sell them bullets if you want to, but leave them to their own devices. Not one more drop of foreign blood needs to be shed in a land that hates practically everyone else. Don’t allow them to travel to any civilized nation. Then we’ll see just whose God is really great!

The Butcher Shop

The post Middle East 101 appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

An Ever-Growing Christmas Nightmare

Thu, 12/20/2018 - 4:05pm


Christmas is fast approaching but the joyous season of lights, glittering trees, and children’s wide-eyed wonder has been turned into the the stuff of nightmares not just in Israel but in Europe and now in Egypt as well.

First Israel…the Holy Land…the very land God gave to the Jews.

They think they can uproot us from our land. They will not succeed…Our guiding principle is that whoever attacks us and whoever tries to attack us will pay with his life.” So said Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu…and rightfully so.

The Jewish State of Israel…which will remain the Jewish State no matter the U.N.’s wishes…is also home to millions of Christians…Christians who are free to practice their religion in the sacred land where Jesus was born. But sadly in today’s Israel, Christmas and the days leading up to it seem to equate to just more days of terror being perpetrated on Israeli citizens…both Christians and Jews…by those who think they have a right to said Holy Land…by those known as Palestinians.

And like in too many Christmas’s past, which included his placing added security at Christian churches, Prime Minister Netanyahu has basically been forced once again to take matters into his own hands to keep all Israeli citizens safe. Now making publicly known his seven key steps…steps he believes will help deter terror attacks by both Iranian funded Hezbollah and Hamas operatives living in Gaza and the Golan Heights…Netanyahu issued these steps while Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas still continues to blame Israel for what he called a “violent environment” and Israel’s inciting violence against him. But these accusations are indeed quite laughable for time and actions have proven that it’s the Palestinians who always… and I repeat always…start the altercations with Israel thus leaving Israel having every right to fight back.

And these seven steps are in direct response to both of last week’s killings by Palestinian gunmen, the first where two I.D.F. soldiers were gunned down at a bus stop and to the drive-by shooting that not only seriously wounded seven Israelis outside the town of Ofra but also led to the death of a baby boy and his mother. Step 1: to accelerate demolition of terrorists’ homes; Step two: to ramp up efforts to apprehend the terrorists responsible for the latest series of attacks; Step 3: to increase administrative detention of Hamas operatives in Judea and Samaria; Step four: to reinforce IDF units in Judea and Samaria; Step five: to protect roads in Judea and Samaria with checkpoints; Step six: to place a cordon around El-Bireh; and Step seven: to revoke permits of terrorist family members and accomplices. 

Also, Netanyahu will “legalize thousands of homes” in Judea and Samaria that were built in “good faith” but have not yet been granted what’s known as “formal legal status.” And gaining that status would allow the residents the legal right to erect public, educational, and religious structures…as in may creches and Christmas trees that hopefully will now light up Judea and Samaria’s night skies.

And while those once mostly dark skies do start to light up as Christmas fast approaches, the Israeli military will continue on with “Operation Northern Shield”…the very operation that is both “uncovering” and then “neutralizing” Hezbollah’s terror tunnels along the Israeli/Lebanon border. And that operation cannot and must not rest even for Christmas for while Hezbollah does not yet have the ability to produce “accurate weapons,” Israel knows well that as Iran continues to export their missile technology into Lebanon, factories are being built or restructured to turn that technology into accurate long-range “projectiles”…as in missiles…that Hezbollah has every intention of using against Israel no matter if her citizens killed be Christians or Jews.

And never underestimate the possibility of an “islamic surprise” reigning down on Israel on Christmas Day…maybe even on the Christian holy city of Bethlehem in the West Bank…for the islamists hatred of Christians is secondary only to that of the Jews.

So while Israel remains unwavering in its objective of keeping both Hezbollah and especially Iran as far away from the Golan Heights as possible…in fact as far away from Israel in general…Iran continues ratcheting up its hatred of both Israel and the U.S…the “Little Satan” and the “Great Satan” respectively…for how dare President Trump reimpose sanctions on them. And it’s this newest round of sanctions that has caused Iran serious economic hardships as the rial’s value continues to drop on the international markets along with critical oil production and sales plummeting, while at the same time the mullahs are facing the reality that the opposition groups are not just growing in numbers but in strength and solidarity as they rightfully see the mullahs themselves as Iran’s enemy not Israel, not the Jews, and surely not Israel’s Christian citizens.

So while Israel remains ever vigilant this Christmas season as they strive hard to make Christmas as safe, peaceful, and meaningful as possible for their Christians citizens, many countries in Europe are themselves awash in nightmarish Christmas demands that have them caving to those out to kill us all.

“The word ‘Christmas,’ a symbol of our faith and our culture, does not discriminate against anyone. Striking the emblems of Christmas does not guarantee anyone’s respect, does not produce a welcoming and inclusive school and society, but fosters intolerance towards our culture, our customs, our laws and our traditions. We firmly believe that our traditions must be respected.” So stated Milan politician Samuele Piscina last year.

As the muslim invasion of Europe shows no signs of abating and as its muslim population continues to grow while still not assimilating into the fabric of their host countries societies, muslims see it as their right to make demands to either have Christmas traditions and festivities secularized or done away with in their entirety, after all the joyfulness that is Christmas upsets their oh-so delicate islamic sensibilities. And it upsets them to such a degree that Europe is now caving out of fear for their safety…safety from the very people they so foolishly welcomed into their countries.

And Europe’s dismantling of Christmas traditions started quite innocuously with the renaming of Christmas markets and such…replacing the word “Christmas” with “Winter” variations, as in for example the Amsterdam Winter Parade, Brussels Winter Pleasures, Kreuzberger Wintermarkt, London Winterville, and Munich Winter Festival just to name but a few.

By the way, America needs to take note of this seemingly small first step as it’s already happening in our public schools and in our churches with similar replacement names for what used to be school and church Christmas pageants and celebrations.

But even more troubling for Europe than just the simple renaming of marketplaces is the second step…the actual islamization of not only Christmas but of both Jesus and Christianity itself. And with Europe’s ever-increasing muslim populations ramping up their demands to tone down Christmas with its message of love and peace… which directly counters the qur’ans dictates of conversion or death…they are basing this upon the premise that Jesus of the Holy Bible is Isa of the qur’an. Yet nothing could be further from the truth for Isa (the supposed Arabic translation of Jesus’ name) as per the qur’an is a muslim prophet not the Son of God or of God “incarnate”…both key tenets of Christianity. And while Isa is referenced by name 25 times in the qur’an, he is alluded to as the “Word” and the “Spirit” of God but not of being God himself…remember God to muslims is allah…to we Christians and to we Jews, God the Father not allah is the creator of us all.

So if islam’s and Christianity tenets and doctrines don’t match why not force a rewording of one to bring it more inline with the other…as in islamic beliefs. And so “Chislam” was born in Europe to basically keep Christianity in check while islam itself has time to grow unchecked. And like with simple renamings, “Chislam” sadly is making inroads into our country as well for the kumbaya sorts do not see the wolf hiding behind the islamists sheep’s clothing.

And so with these first two steps in place but still not fully bringing Europe to her collective knees, the nightmarish images of bloodshed that is Israel’s ever constant reality is now becoming Europe’s as well as Christmas themed marketplaces are seeing not only killings by islamists increasing but a drop in attendance out of fear…“killing two birds with one stone” if you will. And it started two years ago when a Tunisian born muslim drove a hijacked truck into a busy Berlin Christmas market killing 12 people injuring 48 others with the aftermath being both the locals and tourists feared going to said market.

And just last week three people died and 12 others were critically wounded in France when Cherif Chekatt, a known islamist, opened fire at Strasbourg’s famous Christmas market forcing French officials to put the country on increased alert for possibly more terrorist attacks…again striking fear into the hearts of the French people as attendance at Christmas markets is dropping there as well.

So now with both Israel and Europe on high alert as Christmas draws near…and as islamists relish in manipulating their collective fears…Egypt too…an Arabic country…also sees its Christian population not just fearful but outright terrorized.

There is no Christmas for us…the moment Maggie was taken to the hospital, the clock just stopped.” So said Samir Abdo whose 10-year old granddaughter was murdered last year by a suicide bomber while she was attending pre-Christmas services at St. Mark’s Coptic Orthodox Cathedral in Cairo.

Just a short month ago islamic militants affiliated with ISIS…militants who vowed to go after Egypt’s Christians (Coptics) as punishment for their support of President el-Sissi… ambushed three buses carrying Coptic Christians on a pre-Christmas pilgrimage to the Saint Samuel the Confessor monastery in Minya province…a remote desert monastery south of the Egyptian capital of Cairo…killing seven people and wounding 19 others, all but one members of a single family. And that attack was the second to target Christian pilgrims heading to said monastery in as many years with the first attack occurring in May 2017, leaving 28 people dead.

And an attack on December 11, 2016 on the Saint Peter and Saint Paul church (which is commonly known as El-Botroseya)…which held Christmas markets of sorts…killed 29 in the heart of Cairo. Also, eleven people were killed last December 29th when a suicide bomber blew himself up inside St. Mark’s Coptic Orthodox Cathedral complex in Cairo proper, doing so no matter that the church was being guarded by police in the days leading up to Orthodox Christmas celebrations which were to take place the following week.

The days leading up to Christmas was then and remains now a very dangerous and worrisome time for Coptic Christians in Egypt.

So with Egypt now joining Israel and Europe as being on high alert as this Christmas draws near…the beauty that is the Christmas season has been stolen from many by those whose goal is not just simply to do harm but to strike fear into the very hearts of Christians everywhere for to islamists the Christians will be next after they annihilate the Jews…or so they think. And with what now has turned into a nightmare of contriteness will unfortunately continue on as long as good people everywhere bow down and cater to the wishes of those who, like I previously stated, are out to kill us all.

Copyright @ 2018 Diane Sori / The Patriot Factor / All Rights Reserved.

For more political commentary please visit my RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS partner Craig Andresen’s blog The National Patriot to read his latest article Obamacare is Dead.



Today, Tuesday, December 18th from 7 to 9pm EST on American Political Radio, RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS Craig Andresen and Diane Sori discuss ‘An Ever-Growing Christmas Nightmare’; ‘Obamacare is Dead’; and important news of the day.

Hope you can tune in at:…or on Tune-In at:

The post An Ever-Growing Christmas Nightmare appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

A World Gone Mad

Thu, 12/20/2018 - 9:43am

In a world gone mad the president is stalked by witch hunting “special councils” who spend tax money looking for Russian dressing in the White House kitchen. In a world gone mad a woman with thousands of security leaks runs for president while confidents around her wind up dead in the city park.

In a world gone mad bakers can’t refuse service to a customer who deliberately stands against everything he stands for or believes. In a world gone mad porn stars are credible, but the president’s daughter is not. In a world gone mad senators want to throw open the border to house and feed the criminals who cross while cities pass laws against feeding homeless veterans.

In a world gone mad health care is forced upon the citizens driving availability down and the cost up. In a world gone mad police officers are afraid to do their jobs because all lives matter except theirs. In a world gone mad men marry men, women marry women, and tigers marry chairs. In a world gone mad deviates become teachers and tell six year olds this is normal.

In a world gone mad enough unborn babies are killed to make the Holocaust look like a walk in the park. In a world gone mad people are not allowed to protect themselves, their families, or property even though the constitution gives them that right in one clear sentence. In a world gone mad children can’t say a simple prayer over lunch in school unless their God is Allah.

In a world gone mad the tax code is rewritten for banksters. In a world gone mad your labor is reduced to paper script, and then to plastic, and it’s only worth a quarter of what it was worth to your father. In a world gone mad you have to closely read the ingredients on a can of beans to make sure you’re not eating plastic. In a world gone mad people spend years in jail for using a plant that helps more maladies than penicillin ever did.

In a world gone mad the people watch as the seas rise, and deny the water right at their feet. In a world gone mad children are abducted and sold by the government. In a world gone mad the people in charge of funding the government can’t keep it funded for more than six months, and THEY print the money!

In a world gone mad the people vote knowing that the fix is in and it makes no difference at all because the one percent has already made the count. In a world gone mad we all sit on a lonely hill, lost and forgotten, staring blankly at a world gone mad.


The Butcher Shop

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The Families First Prevention Act

Wed, 12/19/2018 - 1:43pm

No matter what you’ve been led to believe, except in the most extreme cases, children are better off with their families than with strangers being paid for their upkeep. Of course where real abuse is involved intervention needs to happen, but ask yourself; if said abuse were so bad as to destroy families shouldn’t that be criminal? We already have police, courts, and jails for those who harm children, don’t we?

It happens because child protection has become a cash cow. Supposedly a single mom has committed acts so heinous that she loses her baby forever, yet the police are not brought in. And armies of professional foster parents wait in the wing for the baby, and the check. President Trump has put the cow in the slaughter house.

A new federal law admits in writing that in most cases children are better off left at home. It forces states to overhaul their foster care in order to share the up to eight billion dollars in federal funds shelled out yearly to the largest child trafficking scam ever. The Family First Prevention Services Act puts money toward in home parenting classes, mental health, and substance abuse treatment, it order to fix problems, not create them.

While most child welfare advocates have welcomed the change some states are scrambling to come up with money to continue the huge foster care system they have when as much as fifty percent of the money is diverted to families first. The act puts a cap on group homes, except in the most extreme cases, of a two week stay. This puts states such as Colorado on notice.

New York will be taking a hit, too. With smaller “congregate care” facilities having to “float their own” they are looking at other options for the children there. Uh, maybe send them home to mommy? In some states such as Alaska and Montana, the children in such systems have increased by more than half. Well, it’s all over now, and it sure is Monday!

There is nothing more traumatic to a child as losing mommy. Even in infancy this leaves an indelible mark on the child’s psyche. It’s called Reactive Attachment Disorder, and it is a defense mechanism of the human mind to guard against the pain of losing someone most precious ever again.

The act will put the priority on fixing problems without endless cases or checks. There ARE young mothers out there who are overwhelmed, and need advice or help. There are also children out there who need mommy more than a foster parent waiting for the monthly check. And maybe, just maybe, little Alex Hill will rest a bit better.

The Butcher Shop

The post The Families First Prevention Act appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

America Needs A Serious Makeover

Tue, 12/18/2018 - 7:07am

America’s image needs a serious makeover. We have gone from Rosie the Rivetor to something along the lines of Justin Bieber in a thong. And it didn’t start yesterday. Back in the eighties there was a rumor that the Kremlin called a think tank to come up with a way to undermine American society. Something so insidious that it would worm its way into the very fabric of our nation by introducing an attack on a behavior or series of behaviors that all Americans were well known for. They concluded that a two prong bio-warfare solution might fill the bill.  Targeting those having anal sex or injecting drugs. So they sent us AIDS! They figured that would just about Kill off eighty percent of our population!

Now we’ve come all the way to the Mueller investigation. Brother Theo and I are at opposite ends of the spectrum on this. While Theo tries to trace Mueller’s ancestry back to George Washington I think he’s a little bitch. We have a diversity of opinion at the Butcher Shop. But let’s boil the whole thing down to basics.

The Mueller investigation strives to prove that American elections can be swayed by Facebook Memes and headlines on the National Enquirer. Stop laughing, I’m not joking. Mueller maintains that Russia had staffs dedicated to making jokes about Hillary on Facebook by posting pictures with dirty words designed to influence the opinions of voters. And the voters followed the lead like a bunch of thirteen year old girls. Mr. Pecker, oh God, what a name, of the Enquirer just stuck a deal with Mueller to avoid prosecution because he, like Cohen, paid some whore for a story which he buried. Like that’s a real crime. I’ve paid off five whores in divorce court! And this coming from a newspaper that routinely says Prince Phillip has seized the throne or the princesses are engaging in fist fights in Buckingham Palace!

And the world believes all this! Forget the world, the freaking DEMOCRATS all believe it. As they push back against the president building a wall so another seven year old girl won’t die of thirst in the New Mexican desert, they bow and pray five times a day in Mueller’s direction as he runs the DNA on used condoms he found on the restroom floor at the D.C. bus station. I wonder if when the government closes down Friday night that means Mueller has to go home?

Let’s see. What did we get so far for our twenty four million? Well, he caught a crooked lying lawyer paying for nookie (this is my surprised face) a likewise lying ex-general, a swindling businessman who couldn’t close a deal, and a Russian whore bumming drinks at an NRA cocktail party. And as a result we’ve got a stalemate where a highly successful real estate broker/president can’t raise enough money to buy bricks for a wall that should have been there years ago! That’s what you got for YOUR money, and THAT’S why people in Holland are laughing their wooden shoes off at America! Please note the first four letters in “Mueller” are pronounced “mule” and the mascot of the Democratic Party is a jackass. This can’t be a coincidence.  And that is how WE look to the rest of the world! America needs a serious makeover.

The Butcher Shop

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Le’Veon Bell’s Fight Against Time and Economics

Mon, 12/17/2018 - 8:07pm

Before the NFL season began Steeler running back Le’Veon Bell told ESPN, “I want to play. …But I’ve got to take this stand. Knowing my worth and knowing I can tear a ligament or get surgery at any time, I knew I couldn’t play 16 games with 400 or more touches.”

Bell’s “stand” meant refusing to play for the Steelers unless they improved on their offer of $14.5 million for one season. That would’ve made Bell the highest–paid RB in the league and works out to $36,250.00 each time he touches the football, fumbles included.

Neither Bell nor the Steelers would budge, so the only football he played this season was Madden 2018.

Kevin B. Blackistone, racial grievance columnist for the Washington Post who appears on the sports page, believes future players will grateful for Bell’s obstinacy, “Bell opted to challenge the league to let a club pay him his worth rather than as an expendable, flesh-and-blood cog under the franchise tag again …Bell decided to …claim ownership of his destiny rather than allow the NFL or the franchise for which he plays to dictate it for him.”

What’s overlooked in the discussion of the tension between what the players want and what the owners say they can afford is the damage past financial decisions have done to the bond between football and the fans.

In the beginning the team that drafted a player had his rights forever and they paid him just enough to keep him from quitting the game and getting a real job. As recently as the 70’s NFL players had off–season jobs to support their families. It took a series of strikes for the players to gain collective bargaining rights and a share of league revenues.

The players portion share of revenue formed the salary cap that limits what each team can pay its roster. This is crucial to league balance and prevents richer teams from stockpiling all the best players at the expense of teams in smaller markets with smaller fan bases.

The downside is veteran players become expendable after only five years. As SB Nation points out, “…the main effect of a hard salary cap was the release of higher paid veteran players in favor of younger players still playing out their cheaper rookie contracts.”

That’s a fine personnel philosophy if you’re running a bank or a car lot. No customer in his right mind forms an emotional attachment to bankers or car dealers. It’s different with sports teams. A soul–less, numbers–first philosophy make keep the accountants happy, but it’s a slap in the face to fans who have an attachment to players they may have met or with whom they’ve vicariously shared great moments in football.

It produces a two–tiered NFL. Well–paid veteran nomads roaming from team to team for higher contracts before Father Time finally tackles them and newbies marking time until they can leave to chase a bigger contract.

That’s why only an optimist buys a team jersey with a current player’s name on it. The expensive jersey will have years of useful life remaining when the player is long gone. Smart fans only buy a jersey with a Hall of Fame player’s name on the back, because those guys aren’t going anywhere.

No father enjoys explaining to his son why the Packer he idolizes is no longer a Packer, but is now playing for a rival. Why fight traffic, pay exorbitant ticket “convenience fees” and be frisked entering the stadium to watch players who are just passin’ through?

Blackistone is angry the league treats players like “expendable, flesh–and–blood cogs.” He’s correct. This Rule of the Accountant undermines the connection between fans and players who are the team. (Only vendors cheer for owners and management.)

A better policy would be to have a player’s impact on the salary cap be significantly reduced the longer he stays with a team. Currently the only players who have ten–year careers with one team are quarterbacks and kickers. The other 20 roster spots are revolving doors.

Player careers are brief. Owner careers are perpetual. Players deserve to maximize earnings during their moment in the sun and owners need profit to pay the players, the light bill and lobby politicians for more taxpayer stadium subsidies.

The people taken for granted in this dynamic are the fans and it is damaging intangible bonds.

Yahoo finance reported the NFL lost thousands of fans last season who were fed up over politics, had no interest in the teams or some other reason. A wise league would try to rebuild the bond between teams and fans. A good way to start would be making it easier for players to finish their career with one team and one set of fans.

The post Le’Veon Bell’s Fight Against Time and Economics appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

From The Mind of a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas

Mon, 12/17/2018 - 9:54am

From the Mind of a Dumb ole Biker from Alvin, Texas:
What you gonna do when they come for you?

So on another post, the question was asked, What are you going to do when they come for your guns?
That’s a good question, and there were lots of answers from tell them, No, to Shoot them. Seriously? While that’s seems like a good idea, let me tell you right now, Remove that idea from your head or your dead.

Let me explain how this will go down. There will be approximately eight highly trained officers coming to your door about 0500 hours or 5 in the morning for the non military. Now they will knock, however before you can get to the door, they will kick the door open, The first officer entering will have a blinding light and go low, the second officer will go high the third and fourth officer will initiate the same stance only in the opposite direction and from the opposite side of the door. You may fire a shot or two, but the other officer will return fire and your dead. Not only are you dead, but your wife may get killed as well.

There is no way to take on these people, by yourself. None period without getting killed and putting the rest of your family in harms way. This is the real world, and unless you have a real plan, it’s game over. Remember, they did confiscate the weapons from the citizens of New Orleans after Katrina, and many of those people were left defenseless when they needed their weapons the most. Many of those people never got their weapons back.

So let me say again, unless you have a good plan in place, your not going to be able to take these folks on by yourself without getting you and your family killed. Time is getting short, think about that real hard.

But what do I know, I’m just a Dumb ole Biker from Alvin, Texas.

The Butcher Shop

The post From The Mind of a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


Sun, 12/16/2018 - 8:57am


From Gordy….


Nebraska: A state trooper pulled over a U.S. Postal truck that was weaving in traffic and discovered enough fentanyl to kill 25 million people. Fentanyl is 50 times more deadly than heroin. Most of it comes from China.

In spite of all the Trump bashing for 2 years, he sits at 48% while Barry was at 45% the same time in office. That from Rasmussen poll.

Trump cancels the Christmas party for the media. Good for him. No more phony photo ops with the President of the U.S., who they HATE and lie about daily.

The Inspector General just found 19,000 “lost” Stryzok/Page texts. All anti Trump. Yep, 2 FBI clowns. Now we find out that many of them have been wiped clean. Hmmm

Now they are investigating $157 million that was spent on the Trump inauguration. What’s next? There was no investigation of the millions spent on the o’s inauguration. Nothing new.

Democrats know they are on the wrong side of the border issue but makes for good talking points for the CLUELESS.

Barry, the abortion President just received a Human Rights award on Wed. How sick is that

Gun free London now has the highest murder rate in 10 years. That from the BBC.

The Dept of Defense CAN legally build the wall and T is now pushing that.

Just who are the CLUELESS, IGNORANT people who support the VIEW?

Trump and Ben Carson signed a BOLD plan for financially distressed and depressed areas. ZERO media coverage on it. However, shortly after that, the media was still calling him a major racist. He can’t win. The founder of the Black Entertainment organization PRAISED Trump beyond your normal praise of someone.

Unlike the O who talked about hope and delivered NONE. Trump is. The O and dems were all talk and no action. THE GREATEST FEAR OF THE LEFT AND THE MEDIA IS THAT THESE “ZONES” AS THEY ARE CALLED, WILL BE A HUGE SUCCESS FOR THE BLACKS. It might even help the district of Maxine Waters which is the armpit of California.

Judges now want to keep ICE out of courtroom. Whose side are they on?

Democrats are fighting for power, Trump is fighting for Americans.

$100 billion a year goes to illegals and dems are fighting a $5 billion border wall bill?

As of yesterday, there were bomb threats across the country. Were they fake threats? Designed to instill fear? Domestic terror?

Guess who investigated the Clinton Foundation: Comey, Mueller, Wiesmann, Rosenstein, all members of the Deep State corruption.

Many more democrat women ran for office. I guess the Republican women were too busy doing the most important job in the world—–Motherhood and family.

Will there ever be an end to the double standard? Not as long as we have progressive, left wing radical mainstream media. Destruction of conservative and character assassination is their norm agenda. It must stop.


The head of the border patrol has issued an invitation to Pelosi to come to the border and see what you have created.

The U.S. takes in 20% of all immigrants. Yes, we are a great nation but millions take advantage illegally.


Just by rewriting the trade deal, yes, Mexico IS paying for part of the wall.

Now know, General Flynn was railroaded. follow the details.

Why does Congress get away with a slush fund to pay off the MeToo scandals and keep it hush hush? Double standard anyone? Only Trump is attacked.

Oh well, have a great weekend folks.

PS: $3 million a DAY is spent to incarcerate illegal immigrants WHO HAVE COMMITTED ACTUAL CRIMES.
30% of all Federal prison inmates are illegal immigrants. These are all verifiable facts.

The Butcher Shop

The post Tidbits appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

CigarBox – Would You Mind If We Had A Talk?

Sat, 12/15/2018 - 2:26pm

Would you mind if we have a talk?

Sherman Road fed into a state highway with four lanes. At the point of intersection there was a curve in the highway so as to conceal any approaching vehicle as it rounded the bend until it was right upon the meeting point of the two roads. Lois gave a half glimpse to her right as she sped past the stop sign and drove right out into the four-lane highway. The passengers in the car could hear the sound of the tires go from the gravel road to the smooth sound of state asphalt. The cloud of red dust was left behind. An “S.U.V,” a Ford Bronco, came suddenly into Lois’s field of vision on her right as it rounded the curve. She saw the blur of motion in her peripheral vision and instinctively, her foot hit the brake causing the little car to skid to a stop. With the sudden stopping of the car the red cloud of dust that had been trailing behind it all the way down Sherman Road preceded and caught up with it, enveloping it as it sat idle in the highway. This was not the right thing to do because had she continued driving the whole incident would have simply been a near miss that they would talk about for days after, but by stopping Lois had set her small automobile up to be broad sided on June’s side by the much larger, and heavier vehicle. June looked right at the approaching Bronco and saw the vehicle bear down on her. She knew that at the speed it was traveling, the collision would be deadly. She was amazed that she felt no fear. The size and speed of the oncoming vehicle made it so final that there was little left to do, so she just sat there and waited for what seemed like an eternity. It seemed as if time slowed for her but in reality she didn’t have time to take a last breath before the bumper touched the side of the Mazda.

As June waited for the sound of crunching metal that she knew she would surely hear, the strangest thing happened. The Bronco stopped; it just stopped! Frozen in a moment in time! No screaming tires, no crunching metal, not anything! One second it was coming at her and in the very next second it was sitting there as if it were parked. June looked out of her window and could observe the bumper actually touching the door of the car, but not so much as to even move the red dust still clinging from the trip down Sherman Road. She looked up at the people in the Bronco. The driver’s eyes were wide, as were his wife’s, and she could see that they had two children in the back, without their seat belts on, peering between the seats. They looked like very realistic dolls. June considered very seriously that she was dead. Perfectly amazed, she turned to tell Crystal about it, but noticed that she was frozen also, as was Lois. Lois was looking straight ahead, but Crystal was staring wide- eyed at the Bronco. Every one in the car except June was frozen in the same way as the people in the Bronco! The fear in Crystal’s eyes was very clear, and June could see the reflection of the colliding vehicle in her eyes. She was beginning to “cross” herself, but had only made the very first motion of the sign of the cross. June leaned forward and looked directly into Lois’ eyes. As she moved her hand in front of them she could tell that the reflection was there, but that neither she, nor Crystal could see anything! Yet there were still alive. Their skin was pliable. They were warm. She touched them and they were not stiff, or
hard. It was as if time were a series of freeze frames of existence and that the world had been paused between two of these frames and all had just stopped. All but June! She looked down at little Mike. He was smiling and looking up at her. From his position, he could not see what was about to happen. She moved her hand in front of his eyes, and like her friends in the front seat, while she could see the reflection of it in his eyes she could tell that he could not actually see her at this time. Then, her eyes followed up to the driver’s side window. To her surprise there was a tall thin man standing beside the car peering in at her. He was wearing a white tuxedo. He was a rather pleasant looking fellow. He had dark hair, with a clean shave. His eyes twinkled and he was smiling.

“Hello, June,” he said. Would you mind if we have a talk?”

She felt a warm rush run the entire length and breadth of her body. This man was alive and moving, and could talk and see her. He didn’t seem to be alarmed at all that everyone was frozen. He acted like he was on his way to a ball or something.

She stared at him. She was rarely at a loss for words but this was one of the times that she couldn’t speak. “Hello,” he repeated. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, June. You might say I’ve been waiting here for you all of your life. Is that little Mike?”

“Yes! What’s going on?” She forced the words out.

“A lot is going on. I’ve been put here at this intersection to do a job. How I do that job depends on you and I.”

She turned back and looked at the S.U.V. “Why did it stop?”

“Oh, it’ll start again, give it time. We only have a little time before it does. In my years here at this intersection I’ve figured out a few tricks, but I can’t sustain this one for very long. That’s why you and I have to talk. The impact will be terrible, and lots of people will die, but what happens, and who dies during that impact will depend on what you do.”

He opened the door, and reaching inside he helped June out of the car.

“Oh, wait, I have to get Mike!”

“No, he’ll be alright. He’ll come out of that car, but how he does it will depend on you. If some people have their way he’ll come out of that back seat dead! But I’ve been doing some thinking here at this old crossroads for the last twenty years. I think there is another option. He has to stay for now, but you have to come with me. We have a bit of traveling to do.” He leaned over to help her out and as he did his hand brushed the child, causing a rash of sparks which made him pull back. He reached in once more, this time being careful not to touch the boy.

“Why did that happen?” she asked.

“He is protected. I can’t touch him. The wreck was supposed to happen and I was here to witness it, and make sure everything went according to plan.”

“And that plan was?”

“We’ll get into that later. How much do you know about time and space?”

“I don’t know very much. I’m not very educated.”

“That doesn’t matter. You don’t have to understand it. I’ll explain what you need to know. For now just understand that there are some who can manipulate time and space, and will do it to achieve their purpose. But I have learned a bit, too, and I can manipulate a few things myself. For instance using your connection with the earthly to permit me to move freely around the spiritual.”

Just then, she noticed that her usual jeans and shirt had been changed and she was wearing a long white gown. Her hair had been restored to its original length before she cut it. It was as if she had a new body.

“Why am I dressed like this?”

“The same reason I’m dressed like this. You and I don’t make these choices. I was put here to wait for you a long time ago. I’ve been standing on this road for twenty years. I was standing here before you were born, and I was here before your son was born. There are plans and schemes in this world, and the people that plan and scheme want you, and your son dead. You and I are going to try to avoid that.”

“Why do they want us dead? Why do they want my son dead?”

“Because of whom he is. He’s not supposed to be, you know? He is a threat to someone very powerful, and very evil. He is afraid of your son. Your son is a dangerous young man. The circumstances of his birth hid him for a while, but in the time-space consortium he was revealed and now we have to move fast if he is to live and do what he is supposed to do. Moving back and forth in time and space has given the effects you have seen. Actually, you’ve been here before, if you understand these things, but you see it as only once. Why do you think you made that unusual statement you made just before the crash?”

“Which statement?”

“About teaching angels how to fly?”

“I don’t know, but I know I needed to say it. It was as if I were expecting the crash. I knew it was going to happen.”

“Indeed you did. That June knew, but you do not. When I am done with you then you will understand why you said that.”

June looked back at her son, still frozen in the car. “Why can’t I just take him out?”

The man looked at her, “June, the universe is a system of balance. It is a system of checks and balances. One of you will come out of that car, but not both. Someone very powerful, very skilled has placed us all here, and getting around what he has done is going to take a bit of planning. There must be a sacrifice today. You and I are going to work that out.”

The man walked around the small car and approached the Bronco. He looked at the man and the family inside.

“He’s a minister you know.” He said this as if June were somehow supposed to know it.

“No, I didn’t know. I don’t know the man.” She was still looking around, amazed at the world ground to a halt around her. In the distance she could see another approaching car, it too, frozen on the highway. Above her were birds, frozen in flight. Even a small bug on the ground was sitting there, not scurrying away from her but just staring out at the world through frozen bug eyes.

The man continued to talk, “He’s going to die, and see that little girl in back; she’s going to die, too.”

“Why?” June asked.

The man grinned, “God’s will. It’s their time. He’s been heading for this intersection all his life.

Everything he has ever done is focused on this intersection. See, this thing we call life is a very complicated affair. We are all tangled up with each other in it. You’ve been heading for this crossroads, he’s been heading here, and I’ve been waiting here for the whole bunch of you.”

“What about his family. I mean, what about the lady, and the child that lives?”

“She’ll marry again; move on. She brings her drinking problem out into the open after he dies and she’ll blame it on this wreck, but actually it’s been there all along. You see she’s been living a lie.” He crossed his arms across his chest when he said this and looked at June. The look in his eye told her that his last statement was intended especially for her.

June looked away from his gaze as he continued, “Just like a lot of people do.”

This stung a bit. “You mean me, don’t you?” she asked.

“I could be. But you are special.”


He began to walk back around to the driver’s side of the car that June had come from, “I don’t know. I just know you are. We all have an essence about us, some more profound than others. Your essence is very profound.” He leaned over and looked into the car at the little boy. “He’s special. There are people who want this little boy to grow up very much. And there are people who don’t want him to grow up.

Like I said, what do you know about time and space?”

“And like I told you, I know nothing about that stuff.”

“Well, let me give you a heads up. On this side, the eternal side, things are ‘as one,’ if you can understand that. If someone makes a plan and the situation changes that same someone can undo the plan, or alter it as if it were the same all the time. I was placed here because it was found after my death that someone pivotal would come along. The person was supposed to be a certain person, but due to an accident of conception it turned out completely different. So, instead of going on like a good ghost, I was put here to wait for that person to come down this road on this day, and make sure that the person did not survive this intersection. My death was a normal car crash at first, but due to this information the person placed me here for the time it took for you to come along with little Mike in the car.”

“He placed you back here? Why?”

“Because some land was sold a very long time ago. Because the man that sold the land is a sort of Witch Doctor, who is very old, and if there is ever a male heir born in his direct line then he has to progress; move on; die. All these years he’s made very sure that that didn’t happen, but now little Mike has put a stone in his plans. Did you think you were born at Rio Casa by some accident?”

“Rio Casa?”

“Yes, the place you know as the Bend. That’s the land that we’re talking about. After my wreck, my sister went to that area and started that subdivision, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Just understand that I want you and your son to win this fight. If I gave you a certain choice right now you’d make the wrong one. I have to ‘school’ you a bit. Within you, June, there is a great spirit, but it’s never been allowed to grow. I’m going to try to help you grow that spirit, but we don’t have much time. Soon the shaman will come, and he’s not going to be very pleased when he finds us gone! He never thought that would happen. He will try to find us, but before he does I have to show you some things, and you have to tell me some things, and then we will come back to this intersection and continue.”

“Am I dead?”

“No, you are not dead. Actually, you’re more alive now than you’ve ever been in your entire life. Your very life force is the reason I can take you from here even if it’s just for a little while. You’ve come down to this point you are at right now, but there is a bit more than just you at stake here now, though you are pivotal to this situation.” The man looked back at the baby. In his eyes, June could see a great deal of love. Then he reached out and put his thumbs over her eyes. He pressed hard, hurting her, but when he took them away, and the blur dissipated she began to see a scene before her similar to a holographic image. It was as real as she was, and three- dimensional. Turning and glancing behind her, she saw that the Memphis scene was still there, and that this new image was a projection of a reality from another location. She saw Claudette pulling her car out into an intersection just outside of the Bend in Texas. Mike, and his older stepbrother, wife, and their baby girl were in the car with them. June knew that they must have been heading home from the store to finish Christmas dinner. Claudette was forever forgetting something at the store on Christmas, or any other holiday for that matter and having to rush off to pick something up. The image was alive and moving. She noted that they still had full motion, unlike the scene in Memphis, and she could even hear their conversation as if there were a great, cosmic set of speakers installed somewhere in the sky.

“Did you talk long with her before she left,” Claudette asked.

“A little. The Doc is real mad about her even coming here. Dad called and said that the Doc had dumped all her things on his porch when he found out I was down here. She’s gonna be hard put to find a bed to sleep in tonight.”

The older woman looked with disgust at her son. “The Catter will find a place to sleep, rest assured!”

“I think she wants to come back to the Bend. She even talked with me about it the night before she left. I can’t see her ever coming back here.”

Claudette was fully aware of the conversation that she herself had had with June during her visit, irrespective of any “agreements” that had passed between June and Mike in the bedroom. The agreement between her and her daughter in law had been understood, and that was the only one that mattered! There was really no other reason to renew the real estate license unless she planned to use it and she couldn’t very well use a Texas real estate license in Tennessee. June knew what she was going to do and the two had agreed upon this course of action. The broker decided to educate her son. “Mike,” she said, “you heard what she said at breakfast. You know the deal. She wants to come home, and if you’d checked you’d have seen that June’s clothes are still in the closet of the room you two slept in. Didn’t you check?”

He turned and looked surprised. “You’d let her live in your house? I thought you were just being nice. You’d let that slut come into your house after all she’s done?”

His mother turned and told him, “She made one mistake Mike. And if you’d been a man she’d not have made that mistake. Of all of us here June is probably the only person who deserves to be in the Bend!”

“I won’t come back mother! I’ll stay in Tennessee. I can’t live here if she’s here. You know that.”

She laughed. “You’ll come back. Five minutes after June the Cat hits town you’ll be here. Don’t even try to be cool! I’ll cut you off without a cent. Let your ‘Real Da Da’ support you for a while! You’ll be back.” She looked in her rear view mirror, “Buddy, you ok with that?”

The young man sitting in the rear seat next to the lovely Mexican girl said, “Yeah, mom, whatever you want. I just want this mess to clear up and let’s go on.” He patted his wife’s hand and she smiled at him.

The car pulled through a green light at the intersection of the freeway and the access road. At that moment the daughter in law screamed, “Oh, my God!”

Claudette looked up to see a car rushing off the freeway coming directly toward the car. Then, she was frozen in time. The whole scene stopped. All the occupants of the car froze. Time froze. All eyes in the car were staring at the oncoming car, knowing the crash was unavoidable. Now the scene was just like the one on Memphis. There were two crashes, two identical sets of circumstances occurring at precisely the same time!

June winced and turned her face away from the scene before her, and the man in the tux put his arms around her shoulders and began to walk her away back toward the Mazda. She looked behind her for one last peek, but the image was now gone and then, in a moment of time, she was in an area she could only describe as “nothingness.” Blue above her; blue below her; blue all around her. The scene from Memphis was beginning to fade. She felt slightly numbed. It was almost as if she were not in her body, yet she was. Then the area around her began to glow, and become white.

“Are they going to die?” June asked, glancing back at the fading Memphis scene.


“On what?”

“On what you decide.”

She shook her head and stared blankly, “I really don’t understand.”

“You will, in time. You see, they won’t live if you live. I see it in your eyes, June. Right now that’s a simple choice because you are a survivor. My job is to take that instinct out of you. To do that we have to take a journey. There are a few rules on the trip we are about to take. One, you are not the same as your physical body. You have left that body. We exist on different planes. You share the same soul as your body, but it is more as if it is the same essence. You, June, are not the same as that June in the car, but you are one, and I can use that connection to do what we need to do. I’m leaving her in that car for the time being in case our friend comes along. He’s going to be very upset when he finds you alive, but I need to buy time to make you understand what’s at stake here, and understand what you need to do.” She turned and for a moment she saw the Mazda still suspended in time and for the first time saw that in fact “June” was still sitting in the rear seat staring at the impending crash.

“Hey, this is really weird, ok,” she said. “Is that me, or is this me?”

“You are you. Don’t try to understand it. Let’s do it this way. We’ll give you a different name here. You’ll be Veronica, ok?”


“Yes, Veronica. Whenever we discuss here,” he pointed to June in the car, “we’ll call her June, but between you and I, you will be Veronica.”



“Any particular reason for that name, or is it just an idea of yours?”

“I have my reasons. You’ll come to know them in time.”

“So I’m Veronica.”

“Yes, and that over there,” he pointed to the Mazda, “is June.”

“Ok, I’m Veronica.”

“Yes. Now, are you ready for a trip? I want you to tell me your story, and I will show you just why your son must survive this crash. You ready?”

“Sure, you first.”

He extended his arm to her, “Care to go dancing?” As she watched in amazement, the “nothingness” began to form a scene around her. Then she was back to a few years before, in another place, another time. She had been transformed in the spirit back to her youth. She and her spirit guide walked into the dance hall unseen by anyone. She could see herself sitting at a table across the hall.

Sharon – The Smell Of Roses


The Dinner

Where Are The Pastors?

There Ain’t No Good Chain Gang

The Butcher Shop

The post CigarBox – Would You Mind If We Had A Talk? appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

There Ain’t No Good Chain Gang

Fri, 12/14/2018 - 10:03am

I was thinking about a line from a Johnny Cash song this morning. With the latest from The Muller rumor mill, “Chain Gang” came to mind. Mueller has put conservative America in a chain gang. What we have here is failure to communicate!

I don’t get writer’s block, but around this time of year I get a lazy streak. Yesterday was my feast day. Catholics do that. Pick a day and it’s the day you have a big meal and celebrate some momentous event in your life. Yesterday was the day my first ex-wife left me back in ’73.

Also, the left is leveling so many charges against the president I’m thinking that somehow Robert Mueller is shacking up with Amy Charron. Who’s Amy Charron you ask? She’s that batcrap crazy “B” word running around Houston telling everyone that I’m in the Mafia, and the FBI has a hit on her. I just hope that money Brother Theo paid her to hide our affair doesn’t come out. But, I never had sex with that woman!

Anyway, this morning a new investigation emerged. This time it’s the Arabs. It seems like some King of the sand fleas over there wanted to get a favor from the president elect, so he paid for the punch at the inaugural ball. I Crappith thee NOT! Now, the democrats can’t approve money to keep Pancho Villa on his side of the fence, but spending good money after spiked punch is fine. I cant wait for the ”Z” generation to grow up!

I told Brother Theo last night that I no longer believe in America. Oh, I believe in what USED to be America, but this thing we have now is not that place. Any time something like Nancy Pelosi can present itself as a reputable person we’ve lost something, somehow along the way. I wonder if her mother had any children that lived?

So, with the Inaugural Ball Investigation, soon to be known as the ”IBI” looming on the horizon we know what the next two years of the Trump administration will be all about. If nothing else the last two years have exposed some key factors. A citizen can no longer become president. That’s reserved for the elite. There is no “America.” That left us years ago when the democrats began to count commas in the constitution. There ain’t no good in an evil hearted woman. And there ain’t no good chain gang!

The Butcher Shop

The post There Ain’t No Good Chain Gang appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The Dinner

Wed, 12/12/2018 - 2:05pm

Went to the dinner last night. The dinner is that one at the end of the year around Christmas where for one reason or another old reptile baits such as myself get together in a last ditch effort to show that we’re relevant. There were about seven hundred there. At this particular dinner students were serving. The guys from the football team, and several girls. The kids were great. The food was not.

Having been to many Realtor dinners I have accustomed myself to such things. A Realtor can easily drink unsweetened tea because at many open houses there is no sugar. At least they did have sugar last night. As we ate I looked at the crowd. It occurred to me that ours is the last generation that read newspapers. The last to go all the way to Barnes and Noble and buy a book. The last to understand a book.

Like I said, the kids were wonderful, but they are a different species. When I was in California my granddaughter, Kylie, was a member of a cheerleading squad. I do not have to say they were beautiful. First off, they were California

girls. Then, of course, they were in shape. During the dinner a group of elderly ladies did a line dance waving feather dusters. The group appropriately called “The Dusters.” As the “Golden Girls” did their bit, I remembered Kylie and her group. Then I added fifty years or so, and realized life comes for us all. Long after I’m gone, Kylie, Brooke, and Little Ollie will be waving those dusters.

Christmas is a time of reflection. A new year is upon us, the old one fading fast, and we begin to realize that we’re one step closer to becoming history. What will we leave? I’ll leave a wealth of writing, but those who read them will be buried right beside me. We will leave a generation that won’t even know the date of 9/11. A generation that thinks Sodom and Gomorrah were married. A generation that’s thinks Martin Luther King freed the slaves. And one day, they too will be sitting at the dinner.

The Butcher Shop

The post The Dinner appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


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