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Body slam
Somehow in the right wing way of thinking picking up someone and body slam and punching a reporter is okay in the world of idiots. I just wonder what you idiots would be saying if a democrat actually did something like that. But violence must be okay you elected a very violent person to lead.
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Is trump a traitor or a spy with help from most of his cabinet
Frumpf is a traitor. Let's count the ways to inform the CS repugnuts

Covert communications for what other purpose than Putin directing Frumpf or pass military secrets.
Where is Repugnuts answer to this major breach in intelligence info by frumpass. That's the Israeli info. Then the sub locations
Then the stupid praise for launching $100 million in cruise missiles that damage nothing. It's bc FRUMPFASS warned them to clear out. So. No retribution for gassing children.
Don't forget the disastrous Yemen raid due to FRUMPFASS stupidity
And now he continues to insult our allies and embarrass us to the rest of the world.
CONCLUSION
WORST STUPID AND IGNORANT PRES IN US HISTORY AND NOW WORKING ON HUMAN HISTORY RIVALING COLLIGULA. The roman emperor that burned down Rome
Ok come and get me stup Chiken shots Repugnuts.
Stupid is as stupid does

Before he destroys us

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The republicans in congress: A collection of incapables. What have they accomplished?!
Seriously, talk about betrayal!

Some of us worked our hides raw, contributed lots of time and MONEY to get republican majorities in both houses and and in the White House.... and what have they managed to accomplish? What evidence do we have that they can form a fighting team. A___T_E_A_M-??

Have the republicans coalesced into a functioning governing body? No.

Have republicans solidly backed their (our) president? No.

What about health care?

What's with that funky-looking budget? Yeah the democrat fingerprints stand out far better than the republican smudges on both.

What we are going to see is either the republicans mature and 'come together' to get crap accomplished, or they will be hated even worse than that slimy, thieving, self-aggrandizing mob of Shakes Pelosi, Diaper Frankin, TheDon Reid, muzzie Obama, and-----moonface.

Republicans----- they just don't get it, do they???
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liberal judges
When a soft target makes the news in this country, what should happen to the 9th court, 4th court and that judge in Hawaii who took it upon themselves to ignore reality?
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I'm no fan of Ben Carson, but . .
How, exactly, has Ben Carson sold out his "people?"

For a neurosurgeon, I think he's an extraordinarily dumb person with some idiotic beliefs, but he's still very successful and accomplished. He says a "part" of poverty is a mind set. So what? It is. Success is a mind set as well. Yet, there is a large group, including some on this forum, who think he has sold out his race. I just want to know how they think he has.
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Memorial Day Tribute to Those Never To Be Forgotten
I have posted this before, to remind all that loved ones are never to be forgotten by their fellow combat participants. It is a lengthy, gut-wrenching account of one man's memories of lost brother's-in-arms. One can imagine how difficult it is as a topic for discussion, but I felt it needed to be read/heard again. I am hopeful that those other than Veterans might better understand how heavy and painful the memories are for some of us..."Some scars can't be seen." I also wanted everyone to recognize that each Vet is a unique individual. Having lost friends while in 'Nam, I can assure you that my memories of them will never die.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
By Charles E. Lowrie, in May, 2000.

"I knew...the circumstances of the deaths of my comrades and wondered...what their accomplishments might have been had they lived."

It was misting when I boarded the bus at the hotel. The 3rd Btln., 3rd Marine Regiment of the 3rd Marine Division, Viet Nam era was having its reunion in Washington, D.C., and we were in route to the Viet Nam Veteran's Memorial.

All on board had been drinking the night before, and I'm sure some of the hangovers were Olympian. The alcohol had measurably enhanced our memories of courage and triumph. But now, as we rode to a rendezvous with our buddies whose lives had ended so many years ago in that abattoir north of Rt. 9 and south of the demilitarized zone in Viet Nam, I listened to some veterans chatter incessantly, noticing that others sat quietly--staring. I recalled that they acted the same way years ago, in those minutes before moving out across the paddies toward the tree lines.

My thoughts were both retrospective and introspective. I knew full well the circumstances of the deaths of my comrades and wondered again--as I had for so many years--what their accomplishments might have been had they lived. Most were volunteers. Some, to their own horror, had been drafted into the Corps. One of them once told me he was certain it was 'the work of the devil'. I smiled, remembering how my mother--to her dying days--referred to the 'USMC' tattoo on my left arm as 'the mark of Cain'.

One of the draftees owned and operated a very successful insurance agency. Another was an architect. For the good of the Corps, they had been made machine gunners. Yet, these Marines were no different from the leathernecks of yore. Their appreciation of their circumstances ran the gamut from, 'I'm gonna do my time and get out', to 'Hell, this is the best I've ever had it.' None of us suspected that Vietnam would be the watershed of our lives. But now, here I was, about to face my past. I had been doing it for years with no closure. We finally arrived and dismounted the bus. We walked a short distance, and there it was.

I had seen 'The Wall' on television and in photographs, but was in no way prepared for the sight of those massive black granite slabs. Fifty-eight thousand dead is but a statistic to some. As I neared the memorial, I began to make out the names etched into the stone. Then the number 58,000 took on new meaning. I knew the details of the design, but the fact that every slab was covered entirely with names stunned me.

A brief memorial service was held to collectively honor the battalion's killed in action, and then the colonel, a former commanding officer of 3/13, told us to move forward. He told us to go slowly and take our time as 'we got a bunch of buddies down there.'

During my 13 months in Viet Nam, from May 1966 to June 1967, the battalion had suffered many casualties. I had racked my memory after I acquired a copy of 'To Heal A Nation' by Jan C. Scruggs and Joel L. Swerdlow, and to my dismay I could recall only the names of approximately 25 of the dead. I knew there were more. Most of those I couldn't remember were new guys.

At last I stood on the walk in front of the Memorial, deciding where to begin, I looked up at The Wall. The rain coursed down the polished black granite, and the rivulets were legion as the water filled the names. I stood there for a moment, my emotions still in check. Then an elderly lady in a wheelchair said, "It looks like The Wall is crying back at us." That did it. A salvo of tears burst from me and everyone nearby.

When I recovered, I went to the directory and looked up the names of those who came home wrapped in ponchos. That done, I began trooping the line. The names are arranged in order of death.

I found the first one. He was a tall, clean-cut Nordic type, killed three days after we arrived in Viet Nam. A bullet from a machine gun struck him in the head, killing him instantly.

Then I found the corporal who had stormed the enemy bunkers on Mutter Ridge, 11 Nov., 1966, destroying one before they got him. He was posthumously awarded the Navy Cross.

The rifleman who was directly behind me when we assaulted the enemy mortar emplacement was next. It happened on 27 Dec., 1966, when the entire day had been just another walk in the sun. He was feather merchant, and I remembered helping him up the ravines earlier that day, as his gear weighed heavily on him. He had received word the day before that his wife had given birth to twin girls. He was able to talk some until his shrapnel-riddled lungs filled with blood and slowly, quietly drowned him. I stopped and wondered whatever happened to the daughters who never knew him.

The next two names were side by side on the granite. They had died instantly from head and chest wounds incurred in an ambush in March 1967 during an operation north of Rt. 9. I had served as their section leader at Camp Pendleton, Calif. I had injured my ankle during night maneuvers and had been taken to sick bay for treatment. When I returned to the barracks, they were waiting for me. Both had gone to the mess hall and bribed a cook to fix some take-out chow for me, as they knew I hadn't eaten.

I saw the name of a Marine from Fort Worth, Texas. He was a good man with a great sense of humor who always pulled his load. Shrapnel from a 27 mm. cannon round pierced his larynx, and he suffocated. After the battle, I had to go to Dong Ha and identify his body. The quick grin was gone from his face. I also identified the body of another Marine, dismembered by the same shrapnel. His nickname was 'Reb', and he and the Texan died a long way from home in March of 1967.

I looked farther down the tablet and saw the three mortar-men. One was from Oklahoma, a Choctaw Indian with an engaging grin. Another was from Missouri and could do the best imitation of a coon-hound on a fresh trail I ever heard. They died together when counter-mortar fire struck their position. Their squad leader, blinded and legless, died of his wound a few days later after the killing had ceased on that never-ending day in March during Operation Prairie II.

I moved on to section 18-E an stood there a long time. The insurance agent and the architect were there. A few days before his death, the insurance agent spoke to me fondly of his family and of his plans for the future. Company K had stormed Hill 861 on 25 April 1967 at the beginning of the hill fights; he and the architect were manning their machine gun when a round from an AK-47 assault rifle killed him. The architect moved him off the gun and resumed firing. The NVA killed the architect with a hand grenade.

The platoon corpsman ran to them and was shot through his shoulder. He feigned death, and the enemy shot him again in the hip. When he didn't flinch, they resumed looting the bodies of the insurance man and architect. When darkness fell, the corpsman crawled back down the hill to our lines. He gave himself morphine and resumed attending to the wounded. His wounds were tended, and he was placed in an old bomb crater with the other wounded. The next morning, the first mortar round fired by the NVA fell into the crater and killed him and the others. He was one of my best buddies. A ridge runner from Tennessee, he had a saying for every occasion. He was clumsy, but a hacker. We pulled many liberties together and endured hardships by laughing at each other's misfortunes. We rode out two typhoons together. The first was on the old troop transport ship USS Henrico (APA-45). As the waves pounded the old ship and it wallowed in the troughs, he and the architect had serenaded us with popular songs of the times. I can see and hear them now as if it were yesterday.

We rode the second typhoon out in a two-man tent pitched on a mountainside in Okinawa. The battalion was attending the Jungle Warfare School in the rugged Northern Training Area. When advised of the approaching typhoon, the helicopter-rich U.S. Army ferried its troops out expeditiously. The Marine Corps, as always ill-equipped, apparently could not obtain sufficient trucks, much less helicopters. So we were ordered to move to the less-side of the mountain, pitch tents, batten down the hatches and man the bilge pumps. My buddy and I passed the night safely, smoking Marlboros and talking about what we would do once we were wealthy. It was most gratifying to all that the tent sheltering the company officers collapsed during the night.

On the next line of The Wall were three names from the 1st squad of the 1st platoon. They also died on 25 April 1967. It happened in the opening moments of a battle to help 1st Btln., 9th Marines when the NVA shot them to rages from hidden and fortified bunkers on Hill 861.

My eyes scanned The Wall, and three lines down was the young Marine who showed me a quick way to unload concertina wire from a six-by truck. It was quick all right. He rapidly backed up the truck and slammed on the brakes. The barbed wire rolled into the company commander's tent. The only reason we were not drawn and quartered was because the captain was at the command post.

The Marine told me that day that he had decided to embrace Catholicism, and his great fear was that he might get killed before he accomplished the task. He was small in stature, but had eyes that could talk. His fire-team leader had been giving him instructions in the Catholic faith and was at his side when he took the bullet in his head on Hill 861. As he fell, he screamed, "Frank! Frank, baptize me!" Frank baptized him with halazone-laced water from his canteen as the young Marine's eyes rolled backward and he gave up the ghost.

I moved back and leaned against the rail that runs along The Wall's walk to regroup. The rain was coming down a little harder as I saw another name. He was quite the family man--a career Marine with a great sense of humor. He had been wounded during his first tour. He recovered nicely...in time to join 'Kilo' Co's assault on Hill 861 and die a slow, painful death from mortar shrapnel. There was no morphine to be had as most of the corpsmen were dead or wounded. Both sides could hear him begging the man lying next to him to kill him. He finally died in the early hours of 26 April.

I stepped back then and looked at my reunion comrades. Some were standing there quietly and staring at The Wall, their faces awash in tears. Some were openly sobbing, with others comforting them. One walked to me, pointed to a name and explained to me in a hoarse, choking voice how much that Marine meant to him and how he had died. I listened quietly until he was through and then hugged him. After a while, he walked away and I moved back to The Wall.

I squatted down, and the next line contained the names of four members of the 2nd Plt. killed by sniper, machine-gun, and mortar fire on Hill 861. One of them was a cocky Marine from up north somewhere. I had an idea others thought so too, as he was constantly on working parties. He jacked his jaws and maybe every other lick he hit was a hard one. He never busted his hump. He asked me to give him an extra soft drink one day. I told him he didn't rate it. I have regretted that for 33 years. Another of that group was a well read Marine who tried valiantly to convert me to be a disciple of J.R.R. Tolkien. He was a tall, bespectacled Montanan, who had plans of becoming a doctor. He was returning fire in the prone when mortar shrapnel entered the back of his head just below the edge of his helmet.

The last line displayed the names of three Navy corpsmen killed in a rocket attack at Dong Ha in May, 1967. All were short- timers and well-liked. One had sewn my lacerated hand back together by flare light. He was extremely efficient and planned a career in the Navy. The other had healed my feel when I was suffering from immersion foot. He could hardly wait to get home to his wife. The third corpsman was immensely popular and later had an aid station dedicated to him at CaLu.

I couldn't remember the names of the two Marines who had premonitions of their deaths. The first went to his squad leader as they were preparing to leave the battalion perimeter to set up a night ambush during Prairie I. He told the corporal he had a bad feeling about going out there. When asked to explain himself, he said, "I can't. It just don't feel right." But, he went anyway, and was killed shortly after leaving the perimeter. He tripped a booby trap, and grenade shrapnel killed him. I remember so well watching his buddies carry his body through the wire and back into our perimeter on old Payable Hill on that misty night in December, 1966.

The second Marine was sitting by me as we waited for the trucks to arrive and take us to the line of departure. It was March, 1967, and he was a short-timer. He was a quiet, black Marine and soft-spoken. I told him, "It looks like you'll be leaving pretty quickly after we get back from this operation." He turned his head and looked at me and then straight ahead and said, "I ain't coming back from this one, Sarge." I shushed him and tried to pass it off. We crossed the line of departure and soon began taking small-arms fire fro a tree line. We got on line and assaulted it, and the enemy departed. We counted heads, and one man was missing. We found him lying behind a paddy dike. A bullet had struck him over his right eye. He was right. He didn't come back from the operation. We wrapped him in a poncho and placed him on a helicopter for the long journey home to his loved ones-the long ride home from Leatherneck Square. (To be continued/finished in next post)
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Christians don't build walls???
Pope Francis told president Trump "Christians don't build walls".

So who built the "walled city" of the Vatican?

Pope Francis, tear down "that wall"?

Let's see if I can spell hypocrite?
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for the people; THEIR REPRESENTATIVES and the waste stream media.
1. You said nothing when Obama used drone strikes to execute people abroad.
2. You said nothing about Russia for 50 years until Trump was inaugurated.
3. You said nothing about Hillary’s campaign manager’s brother being paid $175,000 to lift U.S. sanctions on Russia.
4. You said nothing when Obama engaged in military interventionism in Libya without Congressional approval.
5. You said nothing Obama greatly expanded presidential power through the use of Executive Orders.
6. You said nothing when Obama filled his White House with lobbyists after he said he wouldn’t.
7. You said nothing when Obama gave 47 of his fundraisers Administration jobs.
8. You said nothing about the murders and rapes at the hands of illegal immigrants.
9. You said nothing when Hillary’s net worth rose over $100 million as Secretary of State, in part, because her husband took money from foreign governments.
10. You said nothing after Obama’s net worth rose over $10 million as President.
11. You said nothing when Obama’s Justice Dept. wiretapped/surveilled reporters such as James Rosen and the AP.
12. You said nothing when Obama restricted immigration 6 times with Executive Orders.
13. You said nothing when Obama set a record for deportations.
14. You said nothing when Bill Clinton met Loretta Lynch on the airport tarmac during the Clinton investigation.
15. You said nothing when Hillary was fed debate questions.
16. You said nothing when Obama and Hillary lied about a video and Benghazi.
17. You said nothing when Obama’s IRS abused the rights of taxpayers.
18. You said nothing when Obama’s White House held meetings with lobbyists in coffee shops near White House to avoid disclosure requirements.
19. You said nothing when Eric Holder sold the guns you hate to criminals and some were used to kill Americans.
20. You said nothing when the Clinton’s took White House property.
21. You said nothing when Hillary laughed off defending a child-rapist.
22. You said nothing when Hillary lied about her private use of a private email server as Secretary of State.
23. You said nothing when Janet Reno, under Bill Clinton, used a tank to kill the Branch Davidians.
24. You said nothing when, on May 13, 1985, a bomb was dropped on a row house in Philadelphia to uproot the black liberation group known as Move, resulting in a fire that eventually burned down 61 houses, killed 11 people (including five children) and injured dozens.
25. You said nothing was Elian Gonzales was forcibly deported using guns.
26. You said nothing when George Soros paid protesters to burn parts of Ferguson.
27. You said nothing about states’ rights until Trump’s Executive orders on immigration.
28. You said nothing about Obama’s smoking.
29. You said nothing about the record numbers of people on government assistance.
30. You said nothing about the number of part time and low paying jobs under the Obama recovery.
31. You said nothing when Obama had SWAT teams raid a Gibson guitar factory and seize property, on the purported basis that Gibson had broken India’s environmental laws—but no charges were filed.
32. You said nothing when Obama claimed that the Fort Hood shooting was “workplace violence” rather than terrorism.
33. You said nothing about when Obama ended some terror asylum restrictions, by allowing asylum for people who provided only “insignificant” or “limited” material support of terrorists.
34. You said nothing when the national debt doubled under Obama.
35. You said nothing when 9 times the Supreme Court unanimously overturned Obama’s expansive use of Executive Power.
36. You said nothing when Obama dismissed charges filed by Bush Administration against New Black Panther Party members who were videotaped intimidating voters at a Philadelphia polling station during the 2008 election.
37. You said nothing when Obama released Guantanamo detainees were released and went back to kill Americans.
38. You said nothing when Obama unilaterally changed Congressional law by Executive Order.
39. You said nothing when Obama fired an inspector general after investigating an $850,000 AmeriCorps grant received by a nonprofit run by former NBA star and Obama supporter Kevin Johnson.
40. You said nothing about the 36 Obama’s executive office staffers that owed $833,970 in back taxes.
41. You said nothing when Obama Killed four Americans overseas in counter-terrorism operations without a judicial process.
42. You said nothing when President Obama was caught speaking with the Russian President Dmitry Medvedev that he would disclose information on our U.S. Missile defense system after his 2012 re-election.
43. You said nothing when President Obama initiated defense department’s ‘Rules of Engagement’ leaving our armed forces’ members in harm’s way.
44. You said nothing when President Obama’s administration left with millions, perhaps billions of dollars misappropriated & unaccounted for.
45. You said nothing when President Obama’s funds Found their way into the ‘freedom fighters’ who transformed into ISIS/ISIL.
46. You said nothing when President Obama’s brother, Roy (Malik) Obama was appropriated millions of dollars to distribute to our enemies.
47. You said nothing when President Obama overthrew foreign governments and thousands of Jews and Christians were butchered.
48. You said nothing when President Obama duplicated the altar of zeus to stand upon for his acceptance of the DNC’s nomination.
49. You said nothing when President Obama supported ‘Climate change’ regulations which would have literally impoverished the American people.
50. You said nothing when President Obama purged the military of its leadership (over 300 Generals, Admirals, etc.).
51. You said nothing when President Obama revamped the Nation’s intelligence services (the heart of our Nation’s defense).
52. You said nothing when President Obama sealed his transcripts of high school, college/universities.
53. You said nothing when President Obama’s flunkies invaded western lands and freely wasted 100’s of cattle; set-up, ambush and murdered 54 year old Robert “LaVoy” Finicum. Mr. Finicum had a speaking engagement, why didn’t the FBI wait, apprehend and escort him into their custody? Get out of line and you better fear the results is our lesson for the day!

And the list goes on...
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Investigations, investigations, investigations
It seems these days everyone is under investigation except the investigators. Why not investigate Schumer, Pelosi, Feinstein,Clinton, Waters, etc., maybe then we'll get to the
bottom of it...The Deep State. The real criminals! We have enough home grown criminals that we don't need anymore Somalis, Libyans, Palestinians and others. Go President Trump!!!
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The Truth of Establishing Our USA
There is a fundamental truth behind what Our Founding Fathers did in establishing Our United States of America:

Provide the Federal Government enough monies to allow them to protect Our States, and leave the Citizens alone.
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