My friend just returned from a trip to Bulgaria and Romania with this beautiful T-shirt for me. Can anybody translate what it says? Thanks
My friend just returned from a trip to Bulgaria and Romania with this beautiful T-shirt for me. Can anybody translate what it says? Thanks
(reflections to share with Donald J. Trump)
Stop! Just stop the lying. Tell us what you intend to do with your power, assemble your allies, and give it hell. If it is civil war you want, then that is what you shall get. I have no intention nor inclination to relinquish this country which I love and cherish to a despot such as yourself and your plutonic family. It will be a fight to the death.
You don’t understand, do you? As a poor man I have nothing to offer this cause other than my life in a battle for that which is of paramount importance to me. I would gladly make the ultimate sacrifice for assurance that our children and grandchildren will live in a free society, that white and black will be equal, that no religion’s God is better than another’s, that the world’s poor and oppressed will continue to see America as a bastion of hope, and that no amount of wealth will designate you as better than me. Yes, I will do that because I have nothing to lose, not towers to myself, not mansions in which to vacation, not gold-plated toilets in which to defecate.
You sir, on the other hand, have even less than I do. You have vacated any sense of moral responsibility and betrayed the conscience with which you were endowed by an almighty God. Your soul dwells in poverty and your humane sensibilities have been abandoned to the pauper’s cemetery.
But, how could you understand? You have never walked in my shoes. Your paths were always paved in gold. Your silver spoon fed you caviar and lobster while my wooden spoon fed me black-eyed peas and collard greens. In your world material poverty is ignoble and vulgar, something to be despised. You have lived a privileged, white man’s country-club delusion. Your wealth was inherited. The steps to your success were built on the backs of men and women who mistakenly trusted your promises.
I feel sorry for your extreme poverty. It is obviously much greater than anything I have ever experienced. Forgive me for thinking so unkindly of you. I don’t believe I could ever walk those golden paths in your shoes carrying the onerous weight which must burden your heart. Forgive me for not understanding the gravity of a soul-less existence.
Dr. Seuss (Theodor Seuss Geisel, 1904-1991) was a life-long cartoonist: in high school in Springfield, Massachusetts; in college at Dartmouth (Class of 1925); as an adman in New York City before World War II; in his many children’s books, beginning with To Think That I Saw it on Mulberry Street (1937). Because of the fame of his children’s books (and because we often misunderstand these books) and because his political cartoons have remained largely unknown, we do not think of Dr. Seuss as a political cartoonist. But for two years, 1941-1943, he was the chief editorial cartoonist for the New York newspaper PM (1940-1948), and for that journal he drew over 400 editorial cartoons.
The Dr. Seuss Collection in the Mandeville Special Collections Library at the University of California, San Diego, contains the original drawings and/or newspaper clippings of all of these cartoons. This website makes these cartoons available to all internet users. The cartoons have been scanned from the original newspaper clippings in the UCSD collection.
Dr. Seuss Goes to War by historian Richard H. Minear (The New Press, 1999) reproduced some two hundred of the PM cartoons. That means that two hundred of the cartoons available here have received no airing or study since their original appearance in PM. The cartoons Dr. Seuss published in other journals are even less known; there is no mention of them in Dr. Seuss Goes to War. Dr. Seuss also drew a set of war bonds “cartoons” which appeared in many newspapers as well as in PM.
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I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God.
Is my elected government representative true to the oath above which he took upon entering office? DOES that representative SUPPORT AND DEFEND THE CONSTITUTION against all enemies, foreign AND DOMESTIC? Our Constitution was penned by intelligent men of common sense who had endured life under the monarchy of England. They could not possibly foresee all the pitfalls of 21st century America, but they believed in the rule of law and they believed that rule of law would guide the newly formed republic through the inevitable difficult times.
The rule of law is the foundation of what our nation is. When our elected officials choose to ignore or attempt to pervert the justice system which is one of the tenets of “checks and balances” that guide our democratic republic, we, THE PEOPLE, must take action to correct this perversion. Nobody is above the rule of law, i.e. the Justice Department as designed by our Constitution. To attempt to subvert or circumvent the laws of the United States of America is unacceptable. Whether private citizen, Representative, Senator, or President, none is above the law.
We have seen recently such attempts to pervert or circumvent. For the sakes of our children and grandchildren and for the security of our country, measures must be taken to thwart these attempts. Those efforts are no longer clandestine maneuvers taken behind closed doors. They are openly promoted by elected officials up to and including the President.
Write, protest, sit in, lie down, carry banners, and absolutely get involved in the 2018 elections. If your elected officials do not honor and uphold the oath to which they swore upon entering office, they must be removed as expediently as legally possible.
As we enter yet another period of American soul desolation with racial divisiveness and immigration policy leading our moral free fall into the abyss of social turpitude, we must remember our violent past and the transgressions of that past. Those acts of oppression against the least of these, our brothers and sisters, cannot be buried. They must surface to America’s consciousness, be reconciled, and corrected. Only then can we say as a nation that we are great among the nations of the earth. O God, have mercy on us and deliver us to our destined role as home of the brave and land of the free.
Gabby has attempted to entertain readers with his hayseed rhetoric and “good ole boy” attitude. Humor and opinion were the objectives. Gabby’s Place was undertaken with intentions of bringing a light-hearted moment into the gloom of an America under attack from internal forces attempting to change the landscape of American culture.
My first read this morning was the impromptu White House lawn Fox interview of Trump. Please link to the reference above, listen and read for yourselves what transpired in that interview. My friends, we are fighting the fight of our lives. Increasingly, Trump is showing his true colors and true intentions for this country. It is an egomaniacal drive to abandon long standing democratic alliances in lieu of countries such as Russia, China, North Korea, the Philippines, and Saudi Arabia under the rule of despotic leaders.
When I initially voiced my opinion that Trump wants to take America down the road of totalitarianism under authoritarian rule and sit at the world table with Jong Un, Vlad, and Xi, friends and foes alike scoffed and ridiculed Gabby’s take on world affairs.
Trump cannot deny his words. This snippet is not from “fake news”, but from state-run Fox News. Of course Trump will lie and reconstruct his comments because that is what the POTUS famously does.
Speaking of his newest friend, the leader of North Korea, Kim Jong Un, in a typically rambling fashion,
“He’s the head of a country—and I mean he’s the strong head. He speaks and his people sit up in attention. I want my people to do the same.”
Yes, “they sit up in attention” because they are in fear for their lives. They will be shot or sent off to the gulags if they don’t click heels and kowtow. Is that the America you want?
Howdy, howdy folks. Gabby Graywhiskers here. Today’s gonna be a special edition of Gabby’s Place. I’m sharing Grandma’s famous recipe for pickled pigs’ feet. Hmmmm-mmmm. Kings and queens ain’t never ate better than this. NosireeBob. Now, don’t y’all be squeamish about this delicacy. Them hooves has been scrubbed and washed thoroughly clean as a whistle.
Go to your local butcher on a Tuesday because that’s when the meat is the freshest. Let him help ya pick out the choicest feet from the cooler. They ought to be nice and pink, not too big, and meaty. Y’all will need about 4 feet. Oh, excuse me fer a second, there’s a knock on my front door. In the meantime here’s what you will need:
4 pigs’ feet
3 cups water
12 whole peppers (peppercorns)
6 whole cloves
1 bay leaf
1 TBS salt
Folks, y’all remember Cousin Chumlee from a few days ago? Well, he’s gonna visit with us fer a spell as we pickle the feet. Chum remembers the days back on the farm with Grandma and Grandpa, Mammy and Pappy, Aunt Mazie and Uncle Jed, Susie, Jack, Raifford, Ted, Janie, Grace, and Bobby.
“Did I ferget anyone, Chum?”
“Well yeah, there was Junior and his wife Sissy. Remember them?”
“Chum, they was excommunicated from the family when they voted Republican in the 1952 elections. Nary a one of us were allowed to speak to ’em after that.”
“Well, I’ll be danged. I thought they just decided to move out because they got tired of sharing a bedroom with Uncle Jed. You know how he snored and farted all night.”
“Chum, you was the only blonde, blue-eyed child in a family of brown-eyed, black-haired brothers and sisters. Stray gene in the gene pool, maybe?”
“I reckon, although everybody says there could have been some extra genes added from hanky-panky in the baptismal pool down at the Baptissit Church, if you know what I mean. Folks say I’m the spitting image of ole preacher man Wilson.”
“Baptist, Chum, it’s pronounced Baptist.”
“Chum, I’m sharing Grandma’s pickled pigs’ feet recipe with my blogger friends. Remember the spread Grandma put on the table for family reunions?”
“Oh, Lordy, do I ever. Potato salad and mashed potatoes, fried woodchuck and ham, black-eyed peas, dandelion salad, two kinds of green beans, lima beans, watermelon, home-made ice cream and mincemeat pie. Lord, that woman could cook.”
“Yep, and after dinner she’d slice those mincemeat pies, drop a shot of whiskey atop each slice and then the men folk would retire to the parlor, smoke cigars, and get drunk on mincemeat pie. YessirreeBob, them was good times down on the farm.”
Sorry folks, I almost forgot y’all was still with me. Here’s how to cook them pigs’ feet:
Hmmmmm-mmmm. Ain’t gonna get any better eating than that. I made some last night and before I could get a picture to show y’all, they was all gone. Stop by the house sometime. I’ll cook up some more and make sure to have enough to send home with y’all to share with the family.
Howdy, howdy y’all. Gabby Graywhiskers here. I love summer time. The beach, the sunshine, all the exposed flesh at the beach and a plentiful supply of fresh corn on the cob. And all the fixins for a cookout just a mile away at my favorite Publix grocery store. YessirreeBob, ain’t nothing better than ear corn cooked on the grill.
Now Gabby’s gotta fess up to something that I ain’t real proud of. Y’all think I’m a pretty sensible, laid-back kinda fella. Don’t get too excited about stuff. Well, you do, right? At the store I needed just a few things for supper. Picked up the buns, the burger meat, the mustard and finally to the produce department for the tomatoes and corn. During the season between Memorial Day and July 4th, my store has two display areas for sweet corn.
At the smaller of the two displays, a well-dressed, distinguished middle-aged woman with a stylish hair-do was making her selections. Picked up an ear, shucked it half way down, threw it back. Picked up a second ear, shucked it half way down, threw it back. Folks, the woman picked her way through half a dozen ears before she tossed one into her basket. Then started again. Shucked it half way down, threw it back. Now, as y’all know Gabby’s the sweetest, kindest, most patient man this side of Atlanta. Hell, I’ve been known to stop the car and wait as an armadillo saunters across the highway and then stop traffic when that critter decides to turn around and come on back.
But this woman, did I tell y’all she was just a frumpy old, dyed hair, beady-eyed biddy fresh off the nursing home bus, this old bag has shucked about all the corn on the display. So, being the gentleman that I am, I went to get my tomatoes and then go on to the second display area for sweet corn.
Gaaaaaawd dang! There she is again shucking and tossing, shucking and tossing. What happened next still shames me tonight as I think about it.
“Ma’am, do you really think any customers coming after you will want that ear of corn after you’ve shucked it half way down, put yer greasy fingers all over it, stuck it up to yer nose to sniff and then tossed it back? Huh? Do you think that will happen?”
“Er, why, I always do it this way,” in a little old lady’s voice much like Grandma’s back on the farm. You know….that same Grandma who would give up her last stick of firewood for winter heat just so you could have a pair of mittens. That same Grandma who baked your favorite pie whenever you came to visit. That same Grandma who birthed 7 babies in 10 years just so Grandpa could have a family baseball team.
“How can I tell what color the corn is?”
Oh gaaaawd, she nailed me with that pitiful curled lip smile with just a bit of a tremor. And unless my eyes deceived me, a tear rolled outta the corner of her right eye. Yes, I remember it was her right eye because she had a patch covering her left eye.
Then turning to look me straight in the eye, “Now, sonny boy mind yer own f**king business or I’ll call the manager and tell him you were massaging the cucumbers.”
Lordy be! Grandmas ain’t what they used to be, is they? Stop by the house sometime. We’ll make a batch of corn fritters.