#maybe he would have at least left the Iran deal alone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stupid-jeans · 6 years ago

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fight just a little ch7 (Hannah Rivera/Cassie Conner)

Over on AO3

Notes/Summary: The aftermath of Iran is a little much for Hannah. Thankfully, she knows just who to call.

Thanks for hanging out with us a bit while we frolicked off doing other things haha. There are still two more chapters of this written and not yet posted (not including this one) but we've taken a short break from writing it so updates have slowed down too.

A really big bulk of this chapter is NSFW. There are also a lot of feelings.

Thanks as always to @undercoverwatermoon for the beta, and to the rest of thefab5 ( @chibisere23 @kyrieanne ) for existing and being wonderful.

The biggest thanks, of course, to @icarryyourheart16, for embarking on this and any other crazy project with me, and for being my brain twin, and and and.

It’s less than 48 hours between waking up in Cassie’s arms and listening to Jaz get taken. Hannah’s settled into her job now, she’s settled into her relationship with Cassie, but this she’s not prepared for.

Unlike the team being in Mongolia, Hannah doesn’t have five minutes to take a breath. She barely eats, barely leaves her desk. It’s torture. Nothing like what she imagines Jaz is going through, but, God, it fucks with her head.

When Patricia asks her what she thinks their chances are, she has to be honest--they don’t have one. Jaz is gone. And logistically, it’s not worth risking the rest of the team for a zero percent chance. But being the one to say that makes Hannah feel like almost as much of a monster as Jariff.

Watching the team fight tooth and nail, claw their way from zero percent to something at least in the double digits, is something. Hannah’s been awed by Dalton’s team before. But this is something else entirely.

By the time the team crosses safely into Turkey, it's been almost three days since Hannah’s left the building.

She makes it to the car at least before calling Cassie, who’s left her a handful of messages.

Cassie begins worrying after the first day of no contact from Hannah. It’s not uncommon for either of them to work long hours, but the texts and voicemail she sent are left unanswered.

By the second day, Cassie is so tense she nearly snaps at Jeremy when he offers her a bagel from the cart downstairs. He raises an eyebrow, but takes it in stride, and comes back from lunch to tell her that gossip from those that intermingle with the DIA is minimal, a clear sign that the agency is working on something highly classified. It eases Cassie’s mind slightly, but the worry still gnaws at her stomach. She knows Hannah forgets to eat when work gets intense, and she wonders if she’s getting any rest.

A small ugly voice Cassie is ashamed of tells her Hannah is pulling away, but she brushes it aside almost immediately. This is not that.

It’s day three and Cassie’s left two more voicemails, each of them light and encouraging, because she knows the last thing Hannah needs is to feel guilty. She even went as far as to call Noah, which might have been crossing a bit of a line, but worry has her acting irrationally. The fact that he hasn’t replied tells her whatever is going down at the DIA is most likely not good.

Cassie is worrying her lip reading over her report when her cell phone rings. She’s so on edge she practically dives across her desk to reach it, startling Jeremy, who knocks his mug of herbal tea over onto his desk and lap.

“Jesus Christ Cassie, can you tone it down a notch?” he says as he rights his cup, but his expression is one of concern as he watches her.

Cassie takes a breath to wash all evidence of tension from her voice, and answers.

“Hey baby.”

As soon as Hannah hears Cassie’s voice, she breaks. The stress, the horror, the helplessness, the memories all come cascading down on her at once and suddenly, Hannah can't stop sobbing. She can't speak or move or offer Cassie any sort of explanation. It's been a long, long time since she's cried, let alone with an audience, but Cassie is safe. Cassie is her safe. And she's never been more sure of that than she is right now.

Cassie’s heart lodges in her throat, and she’s halfway to the elevator, murmuring soothing words to Hannah before she stops, realizing she forgot her keys. Cursing, she spins around, nearly bowling over Jeremy who holds her keys and purse.

He lets out a grunt as she launches into his arms, giving him a grateful hug before she rushes into the elevator. She keeps her voice steady for Hannah’s sake, but her heart breaks with each sob.

“Hannah, love, I’m coming to get you okay, can you tell me where you are?”

Hannah manages something that is at least partially distinguishable as ‘work’, focusing on Cassie's voice, on the idea that she's safe and loved and that, no matter how painful the memories are, they're in the past and can't hurt her. Cassie is coming to get her and everything’s going to be okay. She’ll fall asleep wrapped in Cassie's arms, listening to her heartbeat, and that's all that matters.

Slowly, the tears stop and she manages to catch her breath, but if she was exhausted before, she's totally drained now and she can barely move, let alone drive. So she listens to Cassie instead, sniffling and wiping occasionally at her tear-stained cheeks until Cassie’s car pulls up beside hers. Hannah's never been so grateful for anything in her life.

Cassie’s heart kicks up slightly as she spots Hannah in her car, but by the time she gets out and opens Hannah’s door she’s calm and her voice is low.

“Hey baby, let’s go home okay.” Cassie murmurs, wiping at the tears on Hannah’s cheeks and kissing her softly on the forehead.

She reaches into the car and slides her arms around Hannah to just hold her for a moment.

“I’ve got you.”

Hannah slumps into Cassie, clinging to her, though it takes a good deal of effort to make her limbs work.

“You're here,” she whispers, almost delirious. “I'm sorry I didn't call sooner…”

“Shh…” Cassie soothes, swallowing hard at how easily Hannah leans into her, and strokes soothingly down her back. “It doesn’t matter.”

She leans over to take Hannah’s keys out of the ignition and leads Hannah to her own car, where she settles her before jogging back to grab Hannah’s purse. Cassie holds Hannah’s hand as she pulls out of the parking lot, stroking her thumb lightly over her fingers. Her phone rings and she almost dismisses it, but it’s her boss and she winces as she answers, pulling over.

“Miss Conner, Jeremy informed me you had a personal emergency. I wanted to check in.”

Cassie glances at Hannah.

“Yes, sir. I will need to take the rest of the day.”

There’s a slight pause on the other line.

“Very well, next time I would appreciate some notice, but take the time you need. I can extend the deadline on your reports.”

“No need sir, I already finished them.” Using work to distract herself meant Cassie was at least two weeks ahead of her deadlines.

“Thank you for your commitment Miss Conner. Best wishes to you.”

Cassie thanks him and pulls onto the road again.

They make it to her apartment in decent time, and she takes Hannah directly to her bedroom where she guides her to the bed. She looks beyond exhausted.

“Don't leave,” Hannah mumbles, reaching out for Cassie despite already being half-asleep. She's so far gone, she already knows she won't remember this later. Typically, that would make her nervous, but she trusts Cassie. The knowledge settles her and Hannah falls asleep, safely tucked into Cassie’s bed, knowing things will feel a little less overwhelming when she wakes up. This time, she doesn't have to do it alone.

Cassie holds Hannah until she’s asleep, and then sits with her for a moment longer, cheek pressed to her hair. Her fingers stroke absently down her arm and she pulls the throw more securely over Hannah’s shoulders, kissing her gently on the cheek before sliding off the bed to grab her laptop.

She works silently beside her, keeping watch in case she wakes up.

Hannah sleeps until the winter sun is halfway below the horizon. She blinks her eyes open blearily to find Cassie beside her and some of her confusion vanishes.

“Hi,” she whispers, her voice raspy. Her mouth is dry and she's in desperate need of food and a shower, but it can wait a minute. She reaches out to trace her fingers along Cassie’s thigh.

Cassie glances at Hannah and hits send on the food order she’d placed to be delivered as soon as possible after Hannah woke. No need to make things worse by attempting to cook for her.

She covers Hannah’s hand with her own and leans down to kiss her gently.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Hannah answers honestly, stretching out gingerly with a groan. “Thank you for coming. I don't know what I would've done.”

Sitting up, Hannah rubs her hands over her face, still groggy.

“Jaz was…” She pauses and shakes her head. “You know what? After a shower and some food. Was work mad you left?”

Cassie reaches back to grab the water bottle she’d kept on her end table for Hannah and hands it to her.

She pushes her laptop to the side and embraces Hannah, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Nah, I’m already ahead of deadline, the boss is easy enough to keep happy.” She releases Hannah and cups her cheek.

“You’re more important than work, anyway,” she says stroking away the strands of hair sticking to Hannah’s forehead.

“Are you going soft on me, Conner?” Hannah teases affectionately, leaning into Cassie’s touch with a smile. The way Cassie looks at her is different, she realizes, and Hannah has no idea when that happened. Maybe around the same time that Hannah reached the conclusion that seeking comfort for the shadows of her past didn’t make her weak--that letting someone in to this part of herself made her stronger.

Cassie laughs, because it dawns on her that’s exactly what’s happened, and she’s surprised that somehow it makes her feel steadier than she’s ever felt.

“That’s classified,” she says with grin, and she presses a kiss to Hannah’s forehead again before sliding off the bed and handing her a pair of pajamas she’s noticed Hannah favors.

“Why don’t you take a shower. I’ve got food on the way, and ice cream in my fridge,” Cassie says, and she stands in the doorway smiling gently at Hannah. “I love you.”

Hannah feels a little like swooning. She’s suddenly entirely overwhelmed with affection for this amazing woman who has chosen to love her.

“Have I told you lately that you’re perfect?” she asks, getting to her feet, holding the pajamas to her chest. “Because you are. I love you, too, Cassie.”

She commits the sight to memory. It’s simple enough, just Cassie standing in the doorway, looking back at her, but Hannah thinks, if she somehow ended up bleeding out on the side of the road again tomorrow, this is the memory she’d hold onto: the one of Cassie loving her.

Before her emotions can get the better of her, Hannah ducks into the bathroom and focuses on making herself marginally more human. If not for her stomach demanding food (so much so that her hands are shaking when she reaches for the shampoo), Hannah might’ve lingered under the hot spray. But she wants to eat and she wants to be near Cassie, and both of those things mean her shower is fast.

When she finds Cassie in the living room, the food has arrived and Hannah stuffs three garlic knots in her mouth before saying a word.

Cassie loads more food into Hannah’s plate and scoots her chair closer so her thigh presses against Hannah’s. The physical closeness centers her, and she sits silently beside her, tracing absent circles against Hannah’s hip with her thumb.

The silence is comforting, and Cassie expects after three days without so much as a break, Hannah must be mentally exhausted.

Eating helps and Hannah’s mind feels a little clearer. She tips her head against Cassie’s shoulder, lightly kissing her neck between bites.

“Do you want me to talk about it?” she asks finally, not because it’s been gnawing at her, but because now she feels like she can. “Because I know...I mean, we don’t have to. I have a therapist. I pay her for something.”

“No, baby. I want to listen, but I didn’t want to push you,” Cassie explains, realizing her patience hadn’t exactly granted Hannah the space to speak.

“What happened? I was so worried for you.”

Hannah draws a breath and sips her water, searching for the right words before realizing there is no such thing.

“Jaz was captured. In Iran. She was taken by Special Forces after killing a terrorist. I didn't think she was coming back. None of us did.” Automatically, Hannah strokes the scars on her neck, remembering how they’d burned. “They tortured her and all I could think about was Sonora and how close I came to not coming home.”

Cassie watches as Hannah touches the marred skin and hugs her a little closer. She aches for Hannah, because she’s all too familiar with past horrors springing up unexpectedly.

“God baby that’s terrible. I’m so sorry you had to face that,” Cassie murmurs. “How are you feeling now?”

“There was nothing I could do...then or now. And I hate that. Most days, I feel...superhuman. Like what we’re doing makes us unstoppable, you know?” Hannah asks. “Today worked out, but sometimes it doesn’t and...that’s just a lot scarier than it used to be.”

Now you have something to lose, the voice in her head provides helpfully, and all the reasons why Thea walked away suddenly make so much more sense.

Cassie understands that, and the oily sense of panic that comes with it. “I know,” she murmurs, stroking Hannah’s back.

“We controlled our entire world, or thought we did,” she says, “knowing that you can’t is hard to accept.” Although she speaks it to Hannah, Cassie realizes maybe it’s something she needed to hear as well.

“You’re incredible,” Cassie says, brushing a kiss over Hannah’s cheek, “because you know, and you get up and do it anyway.”

Hannah relaxes at that. The ache in her chest is an old one, a memory more than anything else, and it’ll fade.

“I couldn't imagine doing anything else,” she admits. “We aren't really made for civilian life, you know? But I like this version, the one where I get to come home to you.”

Cassie thinks of the application sitting in her file at work, and a deadline that is two days away. She thinks of how she misses Hannah if work keeps them apart for more than a few days, and how fieldwork would keep her away for weeks, if not months.

“Coming home to you is the best part of my day,” Cassie murmurs as she runs her fingers absently through Hannah’s drying hair.

“I am pretty amazing,” Hannah teases, picking up another piece of pizza and taking a bite without moving. “How’re you doing? Work going okay?” It’s only been a few days but it feels like so much longer.

“Glad you know it,” she replies with quick grin.

“Work is work,” Cassie shrugs. “It’s easy enough to get through the day. Our field unit goes dark for weeks at a time, so it’s a lot of paperwork, but I get through it quickly enough.” She pauses with a frown.

“I feel like I’m just… waiting. I don’t know what for,” she admits.

“You talk to the shrink again?” Hannah wonders. “Adjusting to desk life is tough. It takes a little while to get used to.”

She wonders, suddenly, if maybe Cassie doesn’t want to get used to it, if she’s just biding her time. And Hannah remembers every conversation she’s had with her own therapist about the importance of communication and not just assuming people are on the same page, but this feels a lot different than talking about whether or not they were going to sleep together.

“Hmm, no, I rescheduled.” Cassie says. “We had an unexpected contact from the field team and the whole office was scrambling.” It’s a bit of an excuse, and guilt niggles at her.

“I’ll get used to it,” Cassie says with a smile, trying to shake off the strange mood that grips her.

Hannah wants to call Cassie out, but there’s a fear there, now. If she pushes and Cassie snaps and tells her she’s still planning on going back to the field, that this is all just temporary, Hannah’s pretty sure it’ll break her. Especially tonight.

“Yeah,” she says instead, sitting up under the guise of reaching for her drink. “You will.”

The room feels cold now, and Hannah shivers without Cassie’s warmth.

Cassie senses the shift immediately. Anger at herself flares and mingles with the fear that she’s messing things up, and that curls in with the guilt, because she’s supposed to be here for Hannah, and instead she’s dredging up some unwanted thing.

She pushes her mostly untouched food away, and almost leans over to give Hannah a peck, but guilt has her pausing and drawing away.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower,” she says.

“Okay,” Hannah replies, her mind already shifting into work mode, into pushing away her emotions to be dealt with later and erecting a wall of numbness instead. She gets up before Cassie does and starts to gather the food to clean up. Part of her wants to go home, but there’s a larger part of her that reminds her of her own promise not to let Cassie push her away. “Hey.” She pauses in the kitchen doorway, glancing at Cassie over her shoulder. “I love you.” The words take work, now, but she thinks that’s kind of the point. There’s fear gnawing at her, but pushing Cassie away won’t magically make that better.

“I love you too,” Cassie replies, and she has to turn quickly because tears form in her eyes, and she doesn’t know why her damn mind is such a mess. There’s a strange sense of relief that comes with Hannah’s words, and Cassie realizes with a sinking feeling that without meaning to, a part of her has been waiting for things to fall apart, like being happy just isn’t in the cards for her.

Cassie fights the urge panic, to throw her guard up, because as much as she wants to run from this thing that scares her, she wants to hold on more.

The water is almost too hot, but Cassie stands under the spray anyway, letting the slight pain pull away some of the emotional turmoil.

Hannah straightens up, and it helps to clear her mind a bit. She manages to reel herself back in, to remind herself that there are more pieces at play here than she’s considering. Besides, they haven’t even talked about anything. They’ll cross that bridge when they get to it. In the meantime, Cassie had just come to rescue her and then spent the last day taking care of her, and that’s real and true and tangible. It’s enough.

Making a plate up for Cassie, because she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites, Hannah takes it to the bedroom and settles in to wait for Cassie to emerge from the shower. It’s her turn to do a little damage control for once.

Cassie’s head is somewhat clearer when she steps out of the shower, and she stands in the steamy room for a second to collect herself. She owes Hannah honesty, and as much of her trust as she’s capable of giving. The thought unsettles her, because she’s afraid, but she wants to have faith in Hannah, in them.

Cassie is determined to fix this latest snag, and she strides purposely out of the bathroom, only to falter when she sees Hannah on her bed. Her plan to take charge vanishes as she stares at Hannah, and she’s filled with both a fierce love, and the fear that she’s going to do something wrong, ruin this somehow.

“Come here, beautiful,” Hannah murmurs, watching Cassie’s entire posture shift. “You’ve done such a good job taking care of me. You’re incredible and I love you so much. We...have some work to do, still. And that’s honestly kind of terrifying. But it’s a lot easier if we do it together, hm?”

Cassie closes her eyes on a sigh and walks into Hannah’s arms, pressing her face into Hannah’s shoulder as she wraps her arms tightly around her. Having someone fight for her is new, and it completely undoes her.

“I’m sorry. You just went through something so rough, and I made it worse.”

“Hey, no. You didn’t. You’re not responsible for what’s going on in my head, okay?” Hannah murmurs, holding Cassie close and stroking her hair. “The only way we know what’s going on for sure is to talk about it. So we will. But not tonight, hm? Too important to do that when we’re both a little rattled. But I love you, Cassie, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Cassie weaves those words into her memory.

“I don’t deserve you,” Cassie says, and lifts her head from Hannah’s shoulder to look at her. “I know I can be a damn mess sometimes, but I trust you, more than anyone. You’re the only person who’s stayed and-” she pauses, because that particular wound is too much for tonight, “You matter so much, I just want you to know, for when I get stupid.”

Hannah lets go of Cassie so she can cradle her face instead, holding her steady to stop her from looking away.

“You deserve to be happy. Period. You deserve someone who stays, someone who fights for you. The mess...happens. That’s life. We both know I’m kind of an expert at messes. So we’ll both fuck up. But we won’t run away. Deal?”

“Deal,” Cassie murmurs, and her smile softens as doubt fades away. She leans in to kiss Hannah, slow and soft, before drawing back.

“You need to eat,” Hannah coaxes, dropping her hands to squeeze lightly at Cassie’s wrists. “And then all I want is to curl up right here with you and kiss you for a while. Okay?”

“Mmmm, dream girl,” Cassie says, and she nudges Hannah further onto the bed so she can lean back on the headboard and nibble on the food Hannah brought her. It makes her feel both vulnerable, and safe, to be cared for, and she leans her head on Hannah’s shoulder.

Cassie takes a while to filter through the worry in her head before she speaks.

“When you spoke to the shrink, did you tell him everything? The dreams, stuff that could make it seem like you might not be fit for the job?”

Hannah nuzzles Cassie’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, enjoying the closeness again.

“Everything is a lot,” she says. “It took a long time for me to build a good relationship with my therapist. The department shrink? I...was honest with him. If there were things I didn’t want to talk about, I told him that. Sometimes he pushed, sometimes he let it go. But it’s like I told you: he’s not looking for you to be okay. None of us are really okay, you know? I don’t think you can kill people, or watch them die, and be okay. I don’t think you can willingly put yourself in harm’s way and go home without scars. He’s just...looking to make sure you know that, that you’re honest about not being okay.”

Cassie lets that settle in as she curls against Hannah, wrapping her arms loosely around her.

“I convinced myself for so long that I was immune to all of that,” Cassie says. “I’d rather look down the barrel of a gun than admit I’m not okay,” she adds with a laugh.

“I think that might be scarier than buying a couch”.

“It’s way scarier,” Hannah agrees, resting her forehead against Cassie’s as her thumb sweeps over her hip. “But you’re brave and strong and it gets easier with practice, I promise. Just remember, he’s not trying to trick you. This isn’t some test.”

Cassie lets out a breath and shakes her head. “Sometimes I think you may actually be able to read my mind,” she says, leaning up to kiss Hannah’s jaw.

Hannah’s eyes flutter shut and she sighs softly, slipping her fingers tenderly into Cassie’s hair. “Mmm, no mind reading. I’m just a trained spy, remember? And, you know, I’ve been there.”

Cassie shifts to crawl into Hannah’s lap, stroking her fingers softly down the side of Hannah’s neck before kissing her again.

“You have,” she says, sitting back to look at her.

Hannah’s breath goes a little unsteady at Cassie’s touch, but it's from warmth and not from fear.

“So I see you, baby,” she whispers, holding Cassie’s gaze, smoothing her hands over the other girl’s hips, just to touch her.

Cassie smiles tenderly at Hannah and slides off her lap to pillow her head on her shoulder. Partly to hide the moisture in her eyes, and partly to be closer to Hannah. To be known, and to be loved anyway is something new for her.

“And don’t worry,” Hannah murmurs, shifting to wrap her arms around Cassie. “I won’t tell anyone the most badass agent the Agency has is actually a giant softie.” She trails kisses along Cassie’s cheek, slow and gentle. “Kinda like keeping this particular secret to myself.”

Cassie laughs and tilts her head up to kiss Hannah.

“You better keep my secrets Rivera,” she murmurs. Her hands come up to cradle Hannah’s face, and she leans into her, embracing the softness of Hannah against her.

“Every single one of them,” Hannah vows, leaning into Cassie’s touch, kissing her again, sweet and lingering as her fingers fan over Cassie’s jaw and then trail almost reverently down her neck.

Cassie’s eyes flutter closed as Hannah’s touch sends pleasure shivering over her skin.

“Come here,” she murmurs, tugging Hannah down so they’re cuddled under the covers, her legs intertwining with Hannah’s as she presses a gentle kiss to her temple.

“I’m so glad I have you.”

“Says the woman who just rescued me from the parking garage in the middle of a breakdown,” Hannah laughs softly, her fingers curling under the hem of Cassie's shirt, automatically seeking her warmth. “God, I love touching you.”

Cassie wiggles closer to Hannah so she can nibble at her neck.

“I have to agree,” she says, sliding her hands under Hannah’s shirt to smooth over her belly and span over her waist. “Your skin is like silk,” she buries her face in Hannah’s neck “and you always manage to smell fucking amazing.”

“Well, right now I smell like you, so I'll agree with that,” Hannah murmurs distractedly, shivering under the warmth of Cassie’s hands. Her own slip higher, fingertips tracing up Cassie’s spine as her head tips in encouragement.

Cassie hums against Hannah’s skin as she feels the other woman shiver against her. She loves the way Hannah responds to her touch, shivers and sighs at the lightest touch, and she smooths her hands firmly against her skin, tracing the tip of her tongue along her neck. Knowing she can make Hannah respond like that fuels her own need.

“Cassie,” Hannah breathes, arching a little, heat skittering under her skin to settle low in her stomach. It's such a simple thing, but knowing now what Cassie feels like, how she sounds, makes everything feel like so much <i>more</i>. Her hands glide higher, nails dragging carefully over the contours of Cassie’s shoulders, mapping the now-familiar territory. “Baby, I love your mouth.”

Cassie feathers her fingers over Hannah’s neck as she licks and nibbles at the skin there. The press of Hannah’s body against her heats her own skin, and she pulls Hannah’s hips closer to slot against her own.

A soft, needy sound escapes Hannah’s throat and she can't resist the impulse to shift against Cassie. Her hands dip, following the slope of Cassie’s back to tease at the base of her spine, slipping just barely under the waistband of her sweats.

“I love how you sound, just like this,” Cassie murmurs, as her hand slips under Hannah’s shirt to smooth her thumb along Hannah’s ribs just under her breast. She presses open mouthed kisses to the spot on Hannah’s neck that she knows always elicits a response.

Hannah feels herself flush even as she arches into Cassie, another less quiet moan spilling past her lips. One hand abandons Cassie's waist to cradle her head instead, fingers twining through Cassie’s hair.

“God.” She moves again, angling against Cassie’s hip, need pooling fast and low.

Cassie’s hands are slightly rougher as Hannah’s moans send heat crackling over her skin. She palms her breast, pressing a thumb over the peaked nipple as she bites lightly at Hannah’s pulse point, catching the skin gently between her teeth, careful not to leave a mark.

“Baby,” she breathes, yanking Hannah’s thigh up over her hip and arching into the heat there.

It's not until Hannah slides her hand over Cassie’s ass to tug her hungrily closer that she realizes she's already shaking. She tugs just a little at Cassie’s hair, shifting restlessly, the friction and Cassie’s teasing drawing an almost constant stream of breathless, desperate sounds from her lips.

“Please,” she gasps, not even sure what it is she's begging for. She just wants more--of this, of Cassie.

Cassie groans as Hannah moves desperately against her, the heat and want steals her breath, and she flips them over, desperate with need. Her knee slides between Hannah’s legs and she grinds against her as her mouth drops to her neck and her hands move to pin Hannah’s wrists to the mattress.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans, bending down to lick over her collarbone.

The sudden shift is exactly what Hannah needs, even as she struggles against Cassie’s hold, testing. She arches against the welcome pressure of Cassie against her, and the shuddering burst of pleasure it sends through her is instant. Her head drops back as her eyes close, and Hannah can barely find enough air to make a sound. Cassie hasn't even touched her and she's already on edge. Were it anyone but Cassie, Hannah might've been a little embarrassed, but right now, she doesn't particularly care.

“No,” Cassie says simply, giving Hannah’s wrists a squeeze before her teeth scrape lightly over the thin skin across Hannah’s collarbone. She moves to her neck again, nibbling at the spot under Hannah’s ear.

“I want to undo you, just like this,” she whispers against her skin, and her breath hitches as she moves against Hannah, desperate for more of her.

“Jesus, Cassie,” Hannah moans. She rocks more insistently against the other woman's thigh, the sound of Cassie's breathing, the feel of her, dragging her to the edge, holding her there for what feels like an agonizing eternity. “God, baby, tell me please…” She doesn't make a habit of begging for permission, but there's something about Cassie in control like this.

Cassie feels the telltale tingles across her skin as Hannah moves against her, desperate and begging. Cassie’s breathless in her own pleasure, but she brushes her lips against Hannah’s neck and leans in to whisper in her ear.

“I want you to come for me baby.”

The pleasure coiled in Hannah’s stomach snaps and she breaks, bowing under the weight of Cassie, breathing her name. Heat courses through her in waves, leaving her boneless and shivering as she struggles to catch her breath. “Fuck, baby…”

Cassie throws her head back and moves against Hannah, her own release not far behind. The pressure builds and releases in a wave of hot pleasure that has her shuddering and moaning before she collapses weakly beside Hannah.

“Jesus.” she manages, pressing her lips clumsily to Hannah’s temple.

“Mmmm, now I need another shower,” Hannah says, giggling as she reaches for Cassie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I like you bossy.”

Cassie brings their joined hands to her mouth and brushes her lips across the top of Hannah’s hands.

“Hmmm, you do huh? I can keep being bossy.” Cassie murmurs playfully, using her free hand to stroke Hannah’s hair gently back from her forehead.

“Since we both need a shower and all…” Cassie tugs Hannah up.

“Don’t get too excited. I seem to recall you liking me bossy, too,” Hannah teases, letting Cassie lead her into the bathroom. She’s already dropped her shirt on the floor before she thinks about how easy it was to do it. Cassie’s standing right there, the light is on, and now Hannah’s scars are on full display. The panic and the dread don’t come, the disgust doesn’t come, either. Instead, there’s only relief and maybe a little pride. It leaves her standing there, a little dumbfounded.

“Oh, you mean when you nearly killed me? Yeah I vaguely recall that being spectacular,” Cassie retorts with a grin. She notes Hannah’s slight pause and understands immediately. Her smile gentles as she steps back to her to take both her hands.

“You’re so damn beautiful it takes my breath away,” she murmurs.

“You’re something else, you know,” Hannah muses, tracing Cassie’s cheek tenderly. “How you make me feel is...God, I don’t even know. Amazing? Miraculous?” She’s still not sure what to do with all of it, how to make space for this part of herself, but she’s trying.

Cassie flushes with pleasure and leans into Hannah’s touch. “I love you baby. I know people aren’t supposed to save people, but I think you saved me just a little bit,” she confesses before stepping back to turn the knob on the shower.

“I think there’s been some mutual saving going on.” Hannah watches Cassie a minute before shimmying out of her pants, too, and then the reality of Cassie naked and wet against her in the shower catches up to her and Hannah has to remind herself to breathe. She shivers in the cold air and reaches for Cassie’s shirt again. “Someone’s wearing way too many clothes…”

Enjoying her, Cassie blinks innocently and raises her hands above her head.

“Oh no, if only there was something we could do about that,” she says, grinning, as her eyes rove hungrily over Hannah.

“Obedient, yet sassy,” Hannah observes with a playfully arched brow. “See, now I don’t know which one I like better...Good thing I don’t have to choose.” She tugs Cassie’s shirt over her head and wastes no time in drawing Cassie close, savoring the soft heat of skin on skin. “That’s better…”

Cassie chuckles and slips out of her sweatpants, making sure to wiggle suggestively against Hannah in the process.

“You’re right, much better.” She kisses Hannah, fierce and needy, before drawing back.

“You're a tease, Conner,” Hannah purrs, nudging Cassie toward the now-steaming shower. “That's not a complaint, to clarify.”

Cassie pulls Hannah along with her as she steps into the spray. The water slicks over both of them, and Cassie skims her hands over Hannah’s hips.

“Hmmm, I like you wet and slippery,” Cassie says, and then leans in, her voice low and purposefully playful. “I mean that both ways.”

For all of the teasing, Hannah's not quite ready for the feel of Cassie against her like this. Whatever saucy response she might've found a minute ago is promptly lost to the way Cassie’s skin slides against hers, frictionless and hot. An undignified whimper escapes before she can stop it and Hannah finds herself blushing just a little.

Cassie’s skin flushes with heat at the soft sound Hannah makes, and she kisses the touch of pink that appears on her cheeks. The dichotomy between the woman who could kill a person 13 different ways, and the one who blushes in front of her, causes a well of tenderness to swell in her chest.

“God baby, I just adore you so much.”

Hannah laughs softly, covering her face.

“I’m glad. I’m kind of smitten, in case you couldn’t tell,” she murmurs, sliding her arms around Cassie’s waist. “For the record, I like you wet, too.”

Cassie smiles and nips at Hannah’s bottom lip.There’s a bottle of lavender scented shower gel that she squeezes out on her hands before massaging it slowly over Hannah’s neck and shoulders.

“Hmmm, tell me more gorgeous,” she teases.

Melting under Cassie’s hands, Hannah hums.

“I just love knowing I can do that to you. I love how you feel under my fingers, how incredible you taste.” She smooths her hands up Cassie’s sides and then over her breasts, savoring the soft slickness. “And God, how you sound.”

Cassie’s eyes glaze over as Hannah’s hands smooth over her skin, and she has to shake her head slightly to clear it as it goes hazy with desire.

“Hannah,” Cassie breathes, pressing a soft kiss to her lips as her hands roam over Hannah’s water slick skin.

“Just like that,” Hannah purrs, shivering even as she teases over Cassie’s nipples. “Just hearing you say my name makes me ache for you. Not just anyone can make me come without touching me.”

Cassie’s breath thickens as she leans in to kiss Hannah again.

“I love touching you, knowing I can,” she murmurs, her legs going weak at the slight teasing.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Hannah says, realizing how true that is. The trust and love she feels for Cassie isn’t anything she ever expected to feel. Her tongue teases over Cassie’s lips, dipping between them and then retreating again as her fingers continue their exploration.

Cassie recognizes the trust, and it touches her heart as she kisses Hannah. She lingers on Hannah’s lips, savoring the taste of her, and the soft sounds she makes. Hannah’s light touch has her craving more of her, and she steps behind her, taking a second to press her cheek to Hannah’s shoulder before moving both hands up to cup her breasts. Cassie leans into Hannah, cradling her close as she massages her breasts gently, teasing the stiffened peaks with her fingers.

Hannah shudders, a soft breathy moan slipping past her lips. Somehow, having Cassie at her back, though it means she’s not looking at the scars, feels incredibly intimate, and Hannah’s heart races. Needing more of an anchor, she reaches back for Cassie, her palms slicking easily over the outsides of her thighs, aided by the water pouring over them. The angle of her shoulders has her chest pressing further into Cassie’s teasing fingers, and she can feel herself growing instantly wetter.

Cassie continues the gentle teasing, dropping her head to kiss Hannah’s shoulder. She can feel Hannah’s breath coming faster, and she increases the pressure slightly, using her thumbs firmly over Hannah’s nipples.

“Baby,” Hannah breathes, tipping her head back against Cassie’s shoulder. “You’re killing me.” She rakes her nails carefully up Cassie’s thighs and over her hips, pressing her ass back, addicted to the way Cassie feels against her. “But you know that, don’t you? You know exactly what you do to me.”

One of Cassie’s hands drops to Hannah’s hip, and grips tightly there in an attempt to steady herself as Hannah’s touch sends heat shivering along her skin.

“I can’t stop touching you,” Cassie murmurs, relishing in the feel of Hannah soft and pliant against her. She squeezes lightly at Hannah’s nipple while her other hand strokes softly on her belly, her fingers dipping and teasing lower, inches from where she knows Hannah wants her.

“God.” Hannah grips Cassie’s wrist to steady herself, tipping her head to nuzzle Cassie’s cheek. “Please, baby...I need you.” She’s already breathless and dizzy just from this. Everything about Cassie touching her is still novel and Hannah’s already sensitive enough.

Cassie moves her hand lower, tracing her fingers lightly over Hannah for a moment before moving away again. She grips her hips lightly, nudging her foot along Hannah’s instep, urging her to spread her legs as she works her hands over her breasts.

“What do you need?”

Hannah whines a little pathetically, fighting the urge to grab Cassie's hand and tug it between her thighs.

“Touch me,” she pleads. “I need your fingers, need you inside me.”

Her earlier orgasm had done nothing but stoke the heat pooling low in her belly.

“You should feel how wet you're making me.”

Hannah’s words fuel the heat inside her, and Cassie slides her hand down between Hannah’s legs, stroking her fingers lightly over her.

“God baby,” Cassie murmurs as she slips her fingers inside Hannah, pressing the heel of her hand against her as she moves inside her in a torturously slow rhythm.

The welcome pressure draws a gasp and a shudder, until Hannah registers that Cassie has no real intention of giving her what she wants just yet.

Her fingers slip around Cassie's wrist before her nails rake up her arm, a soft whine echoing in the confines of the shower.

“I love when you tease me,” she admits in a trembling whisper.

“Yeah?” Cassie asks, her breath thickening. Wetness seeps between her legs at the thought of Hannah desperate under her touch. She stills her hand, withdrawing her fingers slowly, brushing around the sensitive nub as she turns Hannah to face her. Cassie stares at Hannah’s flushed face, eyes dark with desire, and kisses her again, pressing her up against the cool shower wall.

The tile against her heated skin has Hannah hissing and arching and slipping her tongue past Cassie’s lips. Her palms skim over Cassie’s curves, over her hips and her stomach and her breasts, which only spurs her need.

“Fuck, baby.” Her hips roll into Cassie, seeking more friction and pressure. She knows from how Cassie sounds, how she's breathing, exactly what this is doing to her too, and her mouth waters at the thought of tasting her, at making her come on her tongue.

Cassie trails her fingers feather light over Hannah’s water slick skin as she arches against her. Hannah’s tongue drives her wild, and for a moment Cassie forgets the intention to tease and draw out Hannah’s pleasure until she’s shivering under her touch. Her fingers dig into Hannah’s ass as she bows up, reveling in the feel of Hannah’s softness against her.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Cassie murmurs a little breathlessly, gentling her fingers and skimming them up Hannah’s sides as her mouth comes to the spot under her jaw.

Hannah moans, tipping her head back, palming Cassie’s breast almost distractedly, teasing at the nipple with her thumb. Her knee slots between Cassie’s thighs, pressing up against her.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “You’re soaked.”

A gasp catches in her throat as she rocks against Hannah’s thigh, pleasure jolting into her system. She’s blind with desire for a moment, moving mindlessly, her lips skimming clumsily along Hannah’s neck as she arches her breast into Hannah’s hand.

“That’s all you baby,” Cassie says, a shaky moan slipping from her lips.

With unsteady fingers, Hannah slips between her thigh and Cassie, stroking against her a couple times before withdrawing, bringing her hand to her mouth to suck the wetness from her skin with a low groan.

“God, I love tasting you,” she says, ghosting her lips over Cassie’s as she speaks.

Cassie let’s out a pathetic sound at the loss of Hannah’s touch, and she grabs a fistful of Hannah’s hair before crushing her mouth to hers. The taste of her lingers on Hannah’s tongue.

“I can’t stop wanting you,” Cassie murmurs, biting lightly at Hannah’s bottom lip before easing her back and bringing her fingers between Hannah’s thighs, using slow firm strokes, as her mouth drops to her breast.

“Good,” Hannah chokes out, shifting against Cassie’s fingers, arching further into the wet heat of her mouth.

The coil of need in her stomach winds tighter until she's shaking between Cassie’s body and the wall. Her hands grip blindly at Cassie’s shoulders and some small, coherent part of her brain is aware she's leaving marks behind, but in her want, she can't bring herself to care.

“So close…”

Cassie eases her hand away, and lifts her mouth from Hannah’s breast as a coy smile curves her lips.

“You like being teased,” Cassie murmurs, skimming her lips along Hannah’s temple as she presses her hands to Hannah’s hips, pinning her firmly against the wall. Her own need makes her a little impatient, a little rough, but she bites back on it, as she kisses her way softly down Hannah’s body, grinning against her skin at each tremor.

“Jesus, Cassie,” Hannah moans, whining as she fights against Cassie’s hold on her, knowing it's fruitless. “Baby, please…”

She cards her fingers through Cassie’s water-slicked hair.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” Cassie says, as she keeps one hand anchoring Hannah’s hip to the wall and uses the other to slide her fingers inside of her. Her mouth lowers over Hannah and she laps softly at her.

“Just maybe not right away,” she whispers, slipping her fingers out of her, and kissing her softly right at her center.

“Fuck.” Hannah tips her head back against the wall and carefully shifts her weight to drape her leg over Cassie’s shoulder, opening herself further to the torture of Cassie’s mouth and her fingers. “I meant what I said, you can do what you want.”

She looks down, meeting Cassie’s darkened eyes, the sight stealing her breath.

Cassie shifts closer, easing Hannah open as she does, using her tongue to trace gently over her.

“I love the taste of you,” Cassie says, edging higher to take on some of Hannah’s weight as a hand comes to her thigh, anchoring her.

She slides her fingers back inside her, moving them as she watches Hannah’s face.

“Your mouth is incredible,” Hannah whispers, raspy and low. “I think about it all the time.”

She tightens purposefully around Cassie's fingers, tilting her hips slightly to take her deeper. The slight change in angle makes her shudder almost violently and Hannah exhales sharply as her fingers tug gently at Cassie’s hair.

“Take what you need from me baby,” Cassie breathes, kissing along the skin of her belly before covering Hannah with her mouth again, increasing the thrust of her fingers. Her hand releases Hannah’s hip to press lightly on her belly, stroking the skin there.

“Oh my God,” Hannah breathes, slowly rolling her hips, countering the steady, deep press of Cassie against her, inside her.

For the slow build of her pleasure, Hannah breaks remarkably fast, crying out, Cassie's name mingling with half curses and wordless whimpers until everything ebbs, leaving her shivering and panting, boneless and sated.

Cassie slips Hannah’s leg from her shoulder and stands, holding her lightly against her as she strokes along her hair and down her back.

“You’re so damn perfect,” she murmurs, her lips skimming over Hannah’s.

It takes a minute for Hannah to find her words. Everything’s still a little hazy and all she can do is kiss Cassie back and let her hands roam.

“Perfect’s a stretch,” she whispers finally. “You’re just really, really good at that.” When she tries to straighten up a bit, Hannah finds her knees are still a little wobbly, so she settles again. “Maybe too good. Not that your ego needs much stroking.”

Cassie grins, not bothering to hide the edge of cockiness as she holds Hannah a little more solidly against her.

“I have been known to make a few ladies weak at the knees,” she says playfully, but her gaze goes soft when she looks at Hannah.

“I think you might be the only woman who makes me go weak at the knees,” she confesses.

“Better be,” Hannah murmurs affectionately, cradling Cassie’s cheek. “Kinda hoping you’re all mine.”

It’s been years since she’s worried about losing someone. A small flash of fear threatens to lodge itself in her chest but she pushes it away. It’s in her head. Cassie is here and looking at her like that and it’s enough.

Cassie leans into her touch, keeping her gaze steady on Hannah.

“No one else could even come close, you’re my whole heart,” she says. She tugs Hannah away from the wall, warming her under the spray as she kisses her again.

The dread recedes entirely at that and Hannah relaxes again, coaxing Cassie’s lips apart with the tip of her tongue, barely teasing between them as her hands slide down Cassie’s back.

“I love you,” she whispers against her mouth. “So damn much.”

“I love you too,” Cassie murmurs, closing her eyes at Hannah’s touch as she deepens the kiss.

Hannah lets Cassie push a little but not much, intentionally keeping things light and teasing. She keeps one arm anchored around Cassie’s waist and brings the other up to trace the curve of her breast, circling the nipple with her fingertips.

Barely calmed desire rushes back with such force Cassie arches a little desperately into Hannah.

“God baby I need you to touch me,” she groans, her fingers digging into Hannah’s hips as she nips hungrily at her lip.

“Come to bed,” Hannah purrs, because the water’s cooling and she wants to take her time breaking Cassie apart until she can’t anymore. She reaches past Cassie to turn off the water and wraps a towel around her before finding one for herself. She can’t resist kissing her again, just one more time before stepping out of the shower, offering Cassie her hand.

Cassie squeezes the water from her hair and grabs Hannah’s hand, following her into the bedroom. She drinks in the sight of Hannah’s long bare legs under the towel, and her mouth practically waters.

“I need those incredible legs of yours wrapped around me,” Cassie murmurs, tugging lightly at Hannah’s towel as she brings her closer.

“So not conducive to me making you come,” Hannah says, biting her lip and grinning as she lets the towel drop. “I mean, you can have whatever you want. I’m just pointing that out.” She nudges Cassie to sit on the edge of the bed and crawls into her lap, legs splayed around her hips. “This work for you, baby?”

Cassie’s laugh goes breathless as she grabs Hannah’s ass, tugging her closer.

“Anything you do to me works for me” she says, fisting her hand in Hannah’s hair to tug her mouth down and cover it with her own.

Hannah deepens the kiss immediately, curling her fingers around the back of Cassie’s neck while her other hand returns to Cassie’s chest. She circles her nipple again before dragging the pad of her thumb over the stiffened flesh as her tongue twines with Cassie’s.

Cassie arches up, moaning against Hannah’s mouth as pleasure shoots straight into her core. Her fingers dig briefly into the taut skin of Hannah’s thighs, and then her palms skim up them, molding over the slender muscles there.

Her skin is burning, and she’s desperate for more as she tugs Hannah against her, panting slightly.

“Something you want, Cassie?” Hannah laughs softly, breaking from Cassie’s mouth to kiss down her neck. She rolls Cassie’s nipple between her fingers, pinching lightly, deliberately rocking her hips forward, though the angle does nothing but tease them both.

Cassie jerks at the touch, her head falling back as Hannah’s mouth leaves a searing trail down her skin.

“You know damn well what I want,” Cassie says with a laugh that ends on a moan. Her fingers squeeze at Hannah’s waist.

“God, touch me, I need you to touch me.”

Hannah grins even as she nudges Cassie back, lifting up on her knees to follow after her. With one hand braced next to her head, Hannah slides the other down between Cassie’s thighs.

“I am touching you,” she purrs, barely grazing Cassie’s skin.

Cassie bows up, a desperate sort of whine leaving her lips. She opens her legs in invitation as her hands come up to smooth along Hannah’s sides.

“Hannah you damn tease,” she groans, “god I fucking love it”.

“Can't help it,” Hannah says, watching Cassie intently, still teasing. “Kinda love you like this…” She wets her lips reflexively, dragging the tip of her middle finger along Cassie's entrance, not quite dipping inside.

Cassie hisses out a breath. Pleasure grows hot and heavy between her legs and her walls clench in anticipation. Her hands grow clumsy on Hannah’s skin as she moves to cover both her breasts, reveling in the silky softness.

“Please… Hannah,” she chokes out.

“Begging already?” Hannah grants her a small reprieve, sinking two fingers into Cassie all the way to the knuckle, stroking inside her, slow but firm. She lowers her mouth to Cassie's, sucking at her top lip, drawing it between her teeth.

The slight scrape of Hannah’s teeth against her lip intensifies the pleasure of Hannah inside her, and she bucks her hips impatiently as her hands smooth up Hannah’s neck and into her hair, still wet from the shower.

“Fuck baby.”

“Easy,” Hannah whispers between kisses, though she relishes the way Cassie moves under her. “I'll take care of you. Promise.” Her fingers move again, withdrawing almost entirely before sinking in again. This time, her hand twists enough to press her thumb to Cassie's swollen nerves.

Cassie gasps out a moan, and even in the blindness of desire something soft curls around her heart. There’s trust here, and for the first time she lets herself go completely, her hands dropping limply to the mattress as she gives herself over to Hannah.

“I’m yours,” she murmurs.

“Good girl,” Hannah whispers, sweetly kissing Cassie’s cheek.

She's seen Cassie a lot of different ways, but not like this--pliant and trusting. Despite the need between them, Hannah recognizes there's something more here.

“I love you, sweet girl. I've got you.”

She sets a steady rhythm, lowering some of her weight onto Cassie as her hand works between them.

“You feel so good, baby,” Hannah moans.

Cassie’s head falls to the side as she cants her hips up, seeking more of Hannah. Her weight feels just right, safe, and pleasure feathers across her skin as she breathes Hannah’s name. She feels the tightening, deep inside her, as the pleasure reaches its peak.

Kissing slowly down the side of Cassie’s neck, more tongue than anything, Hannah rubs slow circles over her clit, twisting her fingers deep, stroking just how she knows Cassie likes.

“That's it,” she murmurs against Cassie’s throat.

The combination of sensations undoes her as a wave of hot pleasure rolls over her, and makes her cry out, Hannah’s name a breathless sound on her lips. Her walls tighten like a vise around Hannah’s fingers as she bows up, shaking with release.

“God, Hannah.” Cassie melts back into the mattress on a sigh.

“Mmm, I love doing that,” Hannah murmurs, still just barely moving her fingers, just to feel Cassie shiver. “Don't think I'll ever get over it.” She trails lazy kisses across Cassie’s shoulder and up her neck, wherever she can reach without moving too far.

Cassie groans, stretching languidly as Hannah’s fingers send shuddering aftershocks through her system. Her hands move up to stroke along Hannah’s skin as she presses her lips to her hair.

“I’m not complaining,” Cassie manages, blinking a little as her system settles.

“It’s only, like, 10pm,” Hannah realizes, catching sight of the alarm clock on the end table. She eases her fingers out of Cassie and traces her thighs instead, too entranced with touching her to stop completely. “It feels so much later. Work tomorrow?” She’s lost track of what day it is and her brain is too fuzzy to figure it out just now.

“I can barely remember my damn name, my work schedule is a mystery,” Cassie mutters, but she’s smiling as she draws Hannah up to her, tucking her head under Hannah’s chin. Her fingers feather over Hannah’s belly, tracing along the outside of the scar there, and she nuzzles at Hannah’s neck.

“”Hmmmm, it’s Tuesday today, so yes, work tomorrow.” Cassie says a little regretfully, as she tugs the covers over them.

#Hannah rivera #cassie conner #the brave #my fic #conera

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dsl10 · 7 years ago

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Take Me Out to the Ballgame

I love baseball. I’ve been watching since 1964, when I was seven years old. It’s in my blood as it is for many of my generation. It’s uniquely American. Just like mom and apple pie. And July 4th and fireworks.

Up until I was around ten years old, I was more of a New York Mets fan because we only lived a few minutes away from Shea Stadium in Queens. But I was equally devoted to the Yankees too, and ultimately, ended up rooting for them as I got older. Man, the dilemmas we faced when we were kids.

Back in those days, my father, who worked in New York’s garment center, would get cheap Mets tickets from his mobster bookie, Joe “The Hat.” Joe was like a character from an era gone by, and wore a large, white fedora, earning him the nickname. He was the real deal. Never without a half-smoked cigar jutting out of the corner of his mouth, he owned a tiny, hole in the wall, barber shop on West 39th Street that had one of those old, striped barber poles out in front. From that storefront, “The Hat” took bets on everything from baseball and football to horseracing and boxing. My Dad said he once heard there was a dice game in the back, although he never actually saw it.

One of the great things about growing up in New York was that, because we had two teams here, all the best ballplayers of my generation either played here, or passed through, at some point during their careers. Everyone from Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays to Pete Rose, Roberto Clemente, Roger Maris, Tom Seaver, and Hank Aaron among others. And if they didn’t play for the Mets or Yankees, then they faced them as competitors. And thanks to Joe “The Hat,” I got to see most of them play live.

There must have been a million summer afternoons too, where I’d sprawl out like a giant, gangly octopus on the couch, and watch a game from start to finish on TV. All nine innings. Days seemed to move ever so slowly back then. And baseball was part of the reason why. Sometimes, if you were watching a game on a Saturday or Sunday, it felt like someone flipped the switch and set life to slow motion. A single inning could take fifteen minutes or more. And the three-plus hours it usually took to watch an entire game, seemed like ten. I loved every minute of it.

Today, fifty-three years later, I still love it. And I watch whenever I can, although it’s hard unless I’m home alone. But I got lucky the other day, and caught the Yankees playing the Texas Rangers on television, right from the first pitch. It was a typical hot, Sunday afternoon in late June. Eighty-five or so degrees outside. The Yankee Stadium crowd was quietly buzzing in the background. And it was all sun and blue skies above. It was baseball in New York. And it felt just like it used to when I was a kid. Almost like I was transported back in time. Well, at least for a little while.

But it’s no longer 1964, and life outside is no longer slow. The world is a tense and anxious place now. More than it’s ever been. And it’s all been sped-up to digital-warp speed by technology. My iPhone reminds me of this continually, beeping dozens of toxic CNN headline alerts at me all day long. Trump this and Trump that, North Korea, Iran, Harvey Weinstein, grope-gate, hate-gate, rape-gate, Robert Mueller, sex tapes, race, gender, gay, straight, internet shaming, internet-trolls, fake news, real news, protests, violence…

Enough already. Stop it. I can’t take it anymore!!!

Frankly, I don’t care how many missiles Kim Jong-un just tested. Or what Donald Trump just tweeted about Nancy Pelosi. Or who identifies with what sex. A few weeks ago, it got so bad, I even turned off my iPhone completely a couple of times. But it really didn’t matter because everybody around me still had theirs bleeping and dinging away, and were locked into them like pre-programed iPhone zombies. Now, anything that happens, real or imagined, is flashing away on your iPhone about ten seconds after it occurs. You just can’t get away from it.

Sometimes, when I walk down the street here, people float by me in a trance-like, almost catatonic, state plugged into the broader digital collective, oblivious to most things going on around them. There is now a near constant stream of information and communications being fed into our brains via our iPhones. New York - and the rest of the country for that matter - is rapidly overdosing on the new crack-cocaine epidemic of our time: information overload. It’s now our way of life. It’s who we’ve become. It’s the human race, 2017.

But then, just for a moment, I glanced back at the TV and the Yankee game. I listened to one of the announcer’s marveling over a ball that was just hit deep into the outfield, and how it bounced off the wall, and ricocheted away from the left fielder. And I looked at the perfectly manicured, cross-hatched, green grass on the field reflecting the sunlight. And the shadows from the stadiums upper façade, slowly overtaking the rest of the diamond from the earlier innings. I watched the Yankee’s pitcher go through his pre-pitch routine, nervously spinning the ball in his hand, and then adjusting the brim on his cap so it sat just off to the left of his head. And the batter up at the plate, as he rapped the bat against his cleats a few times to shake loose the dirt that was stuck in the heel. And as I briefly stared at the television, I thought about how much I’ve always loved baseball. What a refuge it is for me. Because it’s completely antithetical to the way life is today. And its antithetical to the never-ending flood of rage and vitriol we’ve come to accept as the new normal.

So, if you feel like you need a place to hide, or if you just don’t want to hear all the screaming and yelling anymore, try to find yourself a baseball game on television. Tune into the Mets or Yankees. Or maybe the Red Sox or Cubs. Stop looking at your iPhone alerts. Turn the phone off. Lower the blinds and turn up the air conditioning. Grab a beer and some chips. Kick back and slow down. Breathe. Take in the game. And get away. What could be better?

Because during a baseball game, there is no Donald Trump or North Korea. There are no Democrats or Republicans either. And no internet shaming or fake news. During a baseball game, there’s just baseball and you. Home runs, double plays, batting averages, curveballs and sinkers.

It’s nice and slow, and easy and safe. And that works just fine for me. Something tells me that, if Joe “The Hat” was still alive today, he would’ve been pretty proud of me.

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newstfionline · 7 years ago

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Despite Our ‘Patriotic’ Propaganda, the U.S. is a Force for Destruction in the Middle East

By Danny Sjursen, TomDispatch, September 7, 2017

I used to command soldiers. Over the years, lots of them actually. In Iraq, Colorado, Afghanistan, and Kansas. And I’m still fixated on a few of them like this one private first class (PFC) in Kandahar, Afghanistan, in 2011. All of 18, he was short, scrawny, and popular. Nine months after graduating from high school, he’d found himself chasing the Taliban with the rest of our gang. At five foot nothing, I once saw him step into an irrigation canal and disappear from sight--all but the two-foot antenna on his radio. In my daydreams, I always see the same scene, the moment his filthy, grizzled baby face reappeared above that ditch, a cigarette still dangling loosely from his lips. His name was Anderson and I can remember thinking at that moment: What will I tell his mother if he gets killed out here?

And then... poof... it’s 2017 again and I’m here in Kansas, pushing papers at Fort Leavenworth, those days in the field long gone. Anderson himself survived his tour of duty in Afghanistan, though I’ve no idea where he is today. Several of his buddies were less fortunate. They died, or found themselves short a limb or two, or emotionally and morally scarred for life.

From time to time I can’t help thinking of Anderson, and others like him, alive and dead. In fact, I wear two bracelets on my wrist engraved with the names of the young men who died under my command in Afghanistan and Iraq, six names in all. When I find a moment, I need to add another. It wasn’t too long ago that one of my soldiers took his own life. Sometimes the war doesn’t kill you until years later.

And of this much I’m certain: the moment our nation puts any PFC Anderson in harm’s way, thousands of miles and light years from Kansas, there had better be a damn good reason for it, a vital, tangible national interest at stake. At the very least, this country better be on the right side in the conflicts we’re fighting.

It’s long been an article of faith here: the United States is the greatest force for good in the world, the planet’s “indispensable nation.” But what if we’re wrong? After all, as far as I can tell, the view from the Arab or African “street” tells a different story altogether. Americans tend to loathe the judgments of foreigners, but sober strategy demands that once in a while we walk the proverbial mile in the global shoes of others. After all, almost 16 years into the war on terror it should be apparent that something isn’t working. Perhaps it’s time to ask whether the United States is really playing the role of the positive protagonist in a great global drama.

I know what you’re thinking: ISIS, the Islamic State, is a truly awful outfit. And so it is and the U.S. is indeed combatting it, though various allies and even adversaries (think: Iran) are doing most of the fighting. Still, with the broader war for the Greater Middle East in mind, wouldn’t it be appropriate to stop for a moment and ask: Just whose side is America really on?

Certainly, it’s not the side of the average Arab. That should be apparent. Take a good, hard look at the region and it’s obvious that Washington mainly supports the interests of Israel, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, Egypt’s military dictator, and various Gulf State autocracies. Or consider the actions and statements of the Trump administration and of the two administrations that preceded it and here’s what seems obvious: the United States is in many ways little more than an air force, military trainer, and weapons depot for assorted Sunni despots. Now, that’s not a point made too often--not in this context anyway--because it’s neither a comfortable thought for most Americans, nor a particularly convenient reality for establishment policymakers to broadcast, but it’s the truth.

Yes, we do fight ISIS, but it’s hardly that simple. Saudi Arabia, our main regional ally, may portray itself as the leader of a “moderate Sunni block” when it comes to both Iran and terrorism, but the reality is, at best, far grayer than that. The Saudis--with whom President Trump announced a $110 billion arms deal during the first stop on his inaugural foreign trip back in May--have spent the last few decades spreading their intolerant brand of Islam across the region. In the process, they’ve also supported al-Qaeda-linked groups in Syria.

Maybe you’re willing to argue that al-Qaeda spin-offs aren’t ISIS, but don’t forget who brought down those towers in New York. While President Trump enjoyed a traditional sword dance with his Saudi hosts, the air forces of the Saudis and their Gulf state allies were bombing and missiling Yemeni civilians into the grimmest of situations, including a massive famine and a spreading cholera epidemic amid the ruins of their impoverished country. So much for the disastrous two-year Saudi war there, which goes by the grimly ironic moniker of Operation Restoring Hope and for which the U.S. military provides midair refueling and advanced munitions, as well as intelligence.

If you’re a human rights enthusiast, it’s also worth asking just what kind of states we’re working with here. In Saudi Arabia, women can’t drive automobiles, “sorcery” is a capital offense, and people are beheaded in public. Hooray for American values! And newsflash: Iran’s leaders--whom the Trump administration and its generals are obsessed with demonizing--may be no angels, but the Islamic republic they preside over is a far more democratic country than Saudi Arabia’s absolute monarchy.

After Israel, Egypt is the number two recipient of direct U.S. military aid, to the tune of $1.3 billion annually. And that bedrock of liberal values is led by U.S.-trained General Abdul el-Sisi, a strongman who seized power in a coup and then, just for good measure, had his army gun down a crowd demonstrating in favor of the deposed democratically elected president. And how did the American beacon of hope respond? Well, Sisi’s still in power; the Egyptian military is once again receiving aid from the Pentagon; and, in April, President Trump paraded the general around the White House, assuring reporters, “in case there was any doubt, that we are very much behind President el-Sisi... he’s done a fantastic job!”

In Syria and Iraq, the U.S. military is fighting a loathsome adversary in ISIS, but even so, the situation is far more complicated than usually imagined here. As a start, the U.S. air offensive to support allied Syrian and Kurdish rebels fighting to take ISIS’s “capital,” Raqqa--grimly titled Operation Wrath of the Euphrates--killed more civilians this past May and June than the Syrian regime of Bashar al-Assad. In addition, America’s brutal air campaign appears unhinged from any coherent long-term strategy. No one in charge seems to have the faintest clue what exactly will follow ISIS’s rule in eastern Syria. A Kurdish mini-state? A three-way civil war between Kurds, Sunni tribes, and Assad’s forces (with Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s increasingly autocratic Turkey as the wild card in the situation)? Which raises the question: Are American bombs actually helping?

Similarly, in Iraq it’s not clear that the future rule of Shia-dominated militia groups and others in the rubble left by the last years of grim battle in areas ISIS previously controlled will actually prove measurably superior to the nightmare that preceded them. The present Shia-dominated government might even slip back into the sectarian chauvinism that helped empower ISIS in the first place. That way, the U.S. can fight its fourth war in Iraq since 1991!

And keep in mind that the war for the Greater Middle East--and I fought in it myself both in Iraq and Afghanistan--is just the latest venture in the depressing annals of Washington’s geo-strategic thinking since President Ronald Reagan’s administration, along with the Saudis and Pakistanis, armed, funded, and supported extreme fundamentalist Afghan mujahedeen rebels in a Cold War struggle with the Soviet Union that eventually led to the 9/11 attacks. His administration also threw money, guns, and training--sometimes illegally--at the brutal Nicaraguan Contras in another Cold War covert conflict in which about 100,000 civilians died.

And don’t forget Washington’s support for Jonas Savimbi’s National Movement for the Total Independence of Angola that would contribute to the death of some 500,000 Angolans. And that’s just to begin a list that would roll on and on.

That, of course, is the relatively distant past, but the history of U.S. military action in the twenty-first century suggests that Washington seems destined to repeat the process of choosing the wrong, or one of the wrong, sides into the foreseeable future. Today’s Middle East is but a single exhibit in a prolonged tour of hypocrisy.

Maybe it’s because most Americans just aren’t paying attention or maybe we’re a nation of true believers, but it’s clear that most of us still cling to the idea that our country is a beacon of hope for the planet. Never known for our collective self-awareness, we’re eternally aghast to discover that so many elsewhere find little but insincerity in the promise of U.S. foreign policy. “Why do they hate us,” Americans have asked, with evident disbelief, for much of this century. Here are just a few hints related to the Greater Middle East:

*Post-9/11, the United States unleashed chaos in the region, destabilized it in stunning ways, and via an invasion launched on false premises created the conditions for ISIS’s rise. (That terror group quite literally formed in an American prison in post-invasion Iraq.) Later, with failing or failed states dotting the region, the U.S. response to the worst refugee crisis since World War II has been to admit--to choose but a single devastated country--a paltry 18,000 Syrians since 2011. Canada took in three times that number last year; Sweden more than 50,000 in 2015 alone; and Turkey hosts three million displaced Syrians.

*Meanwhile, Donald Trump’s attempts to put in place a Muslim travel ban haven’t won this country any friends in the region either; nor will the president’s--or White House aide Stephen Miller’s--proposed “reform” of U.S. immigration policy, which would prioritize English-speakers, cut in half legal migration within a decade, and limit the ability of citizens and legal residents to sponsor relatives. How do you think that’s going to play in the global war for hearts and minds? As much as Miller would love to change Emma Lazarus’s inscription on the Statue of Liberty to “give me your well educated, your highly skilled, your English-speaking masses yearning to be free,” count on one thing: world opinion won’t miss the duplicity and hypocrisy of such an approach.

*Guantánamo--perhaps the single best Islamist recruiting tool on Earth--is still open. And, says President Trump, we’re “keeping it open... and we’re gonna load it up with some bad dudes, believe me, we’re gonna load it up.” On this, he’s likely to be a man of his word. A new executive order is expected soon, preparing the way for an expansion of that prison’s population, while the Pentagon is already planning to put almost half a billion dollars into the construction of new facilities there in the coming years. No matter how upset the world gets at any of this, no matter how ISIS and other terror groups use it for their brand of advertising, no American officials will be held to account, because the United States is not a signatory to the International Criminal Court. Hypocritical? Nope, just utterly all-American.

*And speaking of prisons, thanks to nearly unqualified--sometimes almost irrational--U.S. support for Israel, Gaza, and the West Bank increasingly resemble walled off penal complexes. You almost have to admire President Trump for not even pretending to play the honest broker in the never-ending Israeli-Palestinian conflict. He typically told Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, “One state, two state... I like whichever you like.” The safe money says Netanyahu will choose neither, opting instead to keep the Palestinians in political limbo without civil rights or a sovereign state, while Israel embarks on a settlement bonanza in the occupied territories. And speaking of American exceptionalism, we’re almost alone on the world stage when it comes to our support for the Israeli occupation.

Given the nature of contemporary American war-fighting (far away and generally lightly covered by the media, which has an endless stream of Trump tweets to fawn over), it’s easy to forget that American troops are still dying in modest numbers in the Greater Middle East, in Syria, Iraq, Somalia, and--almost 16 years after the American invasion of that country--Afghanistan.

As for myself, from time to time (too often for comfort) I can’t help thinking of PFC Anderson and those I led who were so much less fortunate than him: Rios, Hensley, Clark, Hockenberry (a triple amputee), Fuller, Balsley, and Smith. Sometimes, when I can bear it, I even think about the war’s countless Afghan victims. And then I wish I could truly believe that we were indisputably the “good guys” in our unending wars across the Greater Middle East because that’s what we owed those soldiers.

And it pains me no less that Americans tend to blindly venerate the PFC Andersons of our world, to put them on such a pedestal, offering them eternal thanks, and so making them and their heroism the reason for fighting on, while most of the rest of us don’t waste a moment thinking about what (and whom) they’re truly fighting for.

If ever you have the urge to do just that, ask yourself the following question: Would I be able to confidently explain to someone’s mother what (besides his mates) her child actually died for?

What would you tell her? That he (or she) died to ensure Saudi hegemony in the Persian Gulf, or to facilitate the rise of ISIS, or an eternal Guantanamo, or the spread of terror groups, or the creation of yet more refugees for us to fear, or the further bombing of Yemen to ensure a famine of epic proportions?

Maybe you could do that, but I couldn’t and can’t. Not anymore, anyway. There have already been too many mothers, too many widows, for whom those explanations couldn’t be lamer. And so many dead--American, Afghan, Iraqi, and all the rest--that eventually I find myself sitting on a bar stool staring at the six names on those bracelets of mine, the wreckage of two wars reflecting back at me, knowing I’ll never be able to articulate a coherent explanation for their loved ones, should I ever have the courage to try.

Fear, guilt, embarrassment... my crosses to bear, as the war Anderson and I fought only expands further and undoubtedly more disastrously. My choices, my shame. No excuses.

Here’s the truth of it, if you just stop to think about America’s wars for a moment: it’s only going to get harder to look a widow or mother in the eye and justify them in the years to come. Maybe a good soldier doesn’t bother to worry about that... but I now know one thing at least: I’m not that.

Major Danny Sjursen is a U.S. Army strategist and former history instructor at West Point. He served tours with reconnaissance units in Iraq and Afghanistan. He has written a memoir and critical analysis of the Iraq War, Ghost Riders of Baghdad: Soldiers, Civilians, and the Myth of the Surge.

#military intervention #war #Iraq War

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the-record-columns · 7 years ago

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June 7, 2017: Columns

A lesson learned in kindness...

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

As I get older, I am often reminded of the expression I heard an older gentleman use one day about the passage of time, “...whoever is cranking out these days sure seems to be cranking harder than ever before.”

To that end it seems practically impossible for almost 15 years to have gone by since the passing of one of the sweetest, kindest ladies I ever met, Annie Gray Seats Barnett, proprietor of the Rockford General Store in historic Rockford, NC.

I met Annie and her longtime friend and companion Wade Edwards quite at random courtesy of WKBC's Steve Handy and Main Street Music and Loan's Mike Palmer early one morning at the Hometown Opry, which was then being broadcast live each Friday morning from the music store on Main Street.

After meeting Annie and Wade at the Opry that morning, we all three left and went to breakfast, and, by 11 am, I thought I had l known them all my life. They were as different as night and day, yet a wonderful couple to know and to spend time with. Annie had a drawl that could stretch the name Wade into three syllables, and Wade, a veteran of the Army and the Navy in World War II, had a sense of humor like no other. They spent a lot of time in our home, we went to music events together, and they became like another set of grandparents to me and my wife, Laura.

Sadly, Annie Gray, as we all called her, died unexpectedly but peacefully in her sleep in September of 2003. In addition to the Rockford General Store, she owned the railroad depot across the Old Rockford Road from the store--where she lived. In what she liked to call her “home depot” was a tremendous collection of advertising items that included an unbelievable array of tin signs, thermometers and banners. The first time I set foot in the old depot building, I broke the commandment against coveting all to pieces.

Annie Gray had no children, and all this brings us to the day in 2004 when I went to the auction of her personal property conducted by her niece and nephews. My son Sam was home from school and we arrived at the auction about an hour early to look around. At one point, while actually looking for a Porta-John, I noticed a small shed next to the depot. I made my way into the shed and saw a beautiful Coca-Cola chest cooler and not much else. Then I spied a painted metal sign which read “Barnett's Antique Shoppe,” and remembered Annie Gray speaking of the store she and her late husband ran for years.

This is what I had come for. Something that had a personal connection to Annie Gray, besides just being a cool Camel Cigarette thermometer or something. The auction began and I did purchase a few items just because they belonged to Annie Gray. I kept waiting for the contents of the shed to come up, but they never did. When I inquired of one of the nephews about those items, he told me that the shed was sold with the depot and store to a Mr. Paul Carter.

My heart sank. At least I had met the niece and nephews, and now I had to deal with a perfect stranger. And a foreigner to boot, all the way from cosmopolitan Winston-Salem. Soon I sought out Mr. Carter, a man who said he took a wrong turn one day while house-hunting and ended up with store and depot. He was pleasant and listened attentively to me as I poured my heart out about how much I missed Annie Gray and how badly I wanted that sign. After a bit, he smiled and said, “I can make that happen.” When I asked him how much he wanted for the sign, I was completely unprepared for what came next, “Oh, Mr. Welborn, after talking to you, I wouldn't think of charging you anything.” I am sure the look on my face was one of utter amazement, and he continued, “Really, take the sign. It's a gift.”

I was especially pleased my son heard this conversation. I am sure Sam was waiting for the man to quote a price and for me to try to beat him down. Instead, he witnessed a man being kind to a complete stranger.

Not too much later, Sam and I left the auction. Yes, we had some treasures, but even better, we had our faith in humanity renewed—a wonderful plus we had not expected,

In the years since, Mr. Carter's family has bought the tavern next door which included the land around the store. They now have an amphitheater and host music events and have made Rockford a true tourist destination.

Annie Gray would be proud of Paul Carter. I certainly am.

Just show up and breathe!

By LAURA WELBORN

The Bible refers to the Holy Spirit and I wonder what the notion of spirit is.

Is it the air? A swirling motion that can’t be controlled or predicted? In John20:22-23 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

So maybe the spirit shows up when we need it the most- to forgive sins and help us from retaining the sins of others (holding a grudge, lessening the impact of the sin). And this power of forgiveness is in the sharing of our stories as part of the commission of the spirit- it happens as we share our stories of love, joy, peace, generosity and when we did harm. The Spirit is life and maybe we just need to show up and breathe. Breathe in the spirit and receive its healing force.

Today is the 14th anniversary of my marriage to Ken Welborn . We have quite a story between us, but one of the resounding moments came years before we even dated, I called him and said to him “you must have such faith to keep marrying time after time”. Ken replied “and many people have called me stupid but not very often a man of faith.” Years later when we were preparing to get married (against all odds) we went to premarital counseling as required to get married when one partner has been divorced. Needless to say Ken went kicking and screaming (literally). It was so bad I asked the Rev. John Setzer if we could just do a test to find the “tough spots” and address those. Well Ken hated that idea but back in the day he would actually do things I suggested so we both filled out pages and pages of questions related to marriage. On the day we went in to discuss the results Ken was in a dark mood, certain this was it for us. John said to us “I have never seen anything like this before, you both scored so high on the compatibility scale and realistic about what you are facing with blending families that I really don’t have anything to work on with you”. Ken responded “does that mean I don’t have to bribe the Bishop?.”.\ John essentially told him “Just show up”. Now I would say “Just show up and breathe” breathe in the spirit of redoing relationships and getting right. We had both learned the hard way of the challenges in marriage and have learned to exist on “faith”, the belief that second, third and fourth chances can sometimes be the charm- you just have to keep showing up and let the spirit (air, energy whatever) flow through you. Can’t control it or predict what direction it will move you in.

Every single thing you’ve gone through in life – every high, every low, and everything in between – has all led you to the moment you’re experiencing right now.

This means that you are exactly where you need to be to get to where you want to go.

Unveiled: The Two Faces of Islam

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

Which is the true face of Islam—the coat and tie or mask and fatigues? No matter what the attire, the goal remains the same: the eradication of Jews, Christians and all other non-Muslims. Islam is the master of disguise.

The two faces appear contradictory, but they’re not. They represent two strategies with one goal—jihad. For the well-dressed jihadist, a close shave (for some), or silk suit and tie is 21st-century battle gear for waging diplomatic jihad.

"Our negotiations with world powers are a source of national pride," said Iranian President Hassan Rouhani. During the Iran-Iraq War, our “brave generals stood against the enemy on the battlefield. Today, our diplomatic generals defend [us] in the field of diplomacy–this too is jihad."

Jihadist strategy “operates in the confines of an ideology,” said Middle East expert Walid Phares. Diplomatic jihad is but one prong of Islam’s long-term global strategy to influence, infiltrate and defeat the West, including Israel. Its diplomatic initiative gained momentum due to jihadists’ frustration with Western military might, which they see as a deterrence to their plan to reestablish the caliphate by violent means, and then supplant all other religions with Islam.

Spotlight on History

Regionally, diplomatic jihad sheds light on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. From the Palestine Liberation Organization’s inception in the mid-’60s, its stated goal has been the “liberation of Palestine” by armed struggle - meaning the destruction of Israel. During its first 10 years, the PLO pursued this goal in a bloody terrorist war. But after the Arab armies’ defeat in the 1973 Yom Kippur War, PLO leader Yasser Arafat understood that violent terrorism alone was not achieving the desired results—so he turned to diplomacy. Arafat realized that the PLO and its Arab allies not only lacked military clout but that terrorist brutality was not good PR. To gain legitimacy for the PLO and delegitimize Israel, he deliberately launched diplomatic and political offensives. Arafat’s efforts peaked at his 1974 address at the United Nations where he presented the PLO as peace-seeking freedom fighters with legitimate claims, and gained observer status in the world body. Mahmoud Abbas is both the current PLO chairman and the president of the Palestinian Authority.

Unveiling the Foundations

Arafat’s “aha” moment was not new—it is deeply embedded in Islamic sharia law and doctrine. “The real bomb is in Islam’s books,” said Muslim reformist scholar Islam al-Behery. Those containing the four schools of Islamic jurisprudence outline the blueprint for Islamic world dominion. “Everything happening today is in these old books,” al-Behery said, including the “obligatory” law to “kill the people of the [other] book [Christians and Jews].”

One expert counts six tracks of the jihadist master plan: economic jihad, such as BDS; ideological jihad including “jihad of the pen” and penetrating academia; political jihad; intelligence jihad by infiltrating a country’s institutions; subversive jihad to sap a country’s defenses from within while protected by its laws; and diplomatic jihad to manipulate foreign policy.

From this foundation stem the multiple faces of militant Islam. Compare this to Israel, which has never called for undermining or destroying the Palestinian people or questioned their right to exist. Unlike Islam’s abhorrence of diversity, Arabs live within Israel’s borders and enjoy the rights and privileges of democracy including freedom of religion.

Since “the real bomb is in the books,” the true source of strife lies in the foundational laws and documents themselves. Just as the Israeli and U.S. Constitutions determine how these countries are governed, sharia law and Islamic jurisprudence does the same for Muslims.

The Israel-Arab conflict is ultimately a clash between two worldviews—a result of irreconcilable foundational precepts. Any initiative to tackle the Israel-Palestinian equation requires discerning their respective foundational documents, and exposing and addressing the on-the-ground applications. Those who use diplomacy for peace—not jihad—would do well to consider this premise.

“Father’s Day Reflections”

By Carl White

Life in the Carolinas

My Dad was a hardworking and kind man, he loved his family, wood working, taking care of the yard and a diversity of animals.

When I was a young boy I remember when the chinchilla salesman came for a visit. He made a spectacular presentation and the near guarantee of untold fortune was too good to pass up.

The day finally arrived when the soft and adorable critters become part of the collection of happy animals that lived amongst us. I was intrigued with the care required. for example, the dust bath. We would put a rectangular medal box in the cage with a grey powder and the chinchilla would hop in and roll and flip around and in general seem to have an outstanding time.

While intrigued, I was disappointed in that my attempts to make a pet of one of our chinchillas failed. As it turns out they are not much for being held and you can forget about a cuddle. They need to say busy gnawing on things as their teeth are for every growing, so having one run freely about the house was not an option.

I recall certain times of my childhood when it was a bit like Charlotte’s Web. The pasture would have cattle, a horse or two, pigs, free range chickens and rabbit hopping all about.

We are all formed by the influences of our childhood. There are so many things that my Dad did that provided a positive influence on my life. I’m glad he loved animals and I am sure that is why I do as well. By the way, the chinchillas never made it to market.

The celebration of fatherhood goes back to the middle ages, when Catholic Europe identified March 19 as the day of celebration with the feast day of St. Joseph.

In the United States the journey to establish Father’s Day reportedly started December 1907 in the small town of Fairmont West Virginia when in a neighboring town 360 men were killed in a mining explosion. More than 1000 children were left fatherless.

Grace Golden Clayton was troubled by this tragedy as well as the losing of her own father, she asks her pastor Robert Thomas Webb to have a service to honor all the fathers that were lost in the mining accident. It was on July 5, 1908 in Fairmont, West Virginia at Williams Memorial Methodist Episcopal Church South that the first reported local observance of “Father’s Day” was held in the United States.

It’s noteworthy that Anna Jarvis’ first Mother’s Day celebration was in Grafton, West Virginia.

There is a bit of a debate over who is in fact the Father or Mother of Father’s Day in the United States. Harry C. Meeks also claimed it was his idea for Father’s Day in 1915.

Sonora Smart Dodd held a Father’s Day celebration at the YMCA in Spokane, Washington June 19, 1910. She was the daughter of civil war veteran William Jackson, who after the death of his wife he raised his six children. In 1916 President Woodrow Wilson visited Spokane and spoke for a Father’s Day celebration. President Wilson endeavored to establish an official national Father’s Day, however Congress was not ready. In 1924 President Calvin Coolidge also recommended the day be recognized.

Finally, in 1966 President Lyndon B. Johnson issued a presidential proclamation honoring fathers and designating the third Sunday in June as Father’s Day and in 1972 President Richard Nixon signed it into law, thus making Father’s Day a permanent US national holiday.

I’m glad we have a day to honor our fathers. I learned the good things form my Dad. I love fresh vegetables from the garden, furniture made of solid wood, I can’t pass an animal without being intrigued and the simple things in life are where I find peace and calm.

I enjoy the TV shows that I produce, however if it were up to Dad, I would be producing Westerns.

Happy Trails and Happy Father’s!

Carl White is the executive producer and host of the award winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In the Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its seventh year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte viewing market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturdays at 12:00 noon. For more on the show visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com, You can email Carl White at [email protected].

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

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Oxen of the Sun

It won't work! There's as good as if those days. A nice thing to do with Trump. Iran! #Trump2016 This was so bad that such a mingling much might come. Dinna forget the cowslips for hersel. Thank you! A lad of four or five in linseywoolsey blossomtime but there will be. Big news to leak into the bargain, says Mr Vincent, of Lilith, patron of abortions, of the pundits or commentators discussing the fact that I had 17 people to express his notion of the nemasperm on the sound with a blade of mace and a wicked devil they would strain the last for to pleasure him and said, laying a hand on the road to Malahide. In the question of the insides and her breath very heavy more than the other a happily chosen position, succubitus felix of the least way mirth might not lack. Wow! Today, all things accord in some mean and measure with their inceptions and originals, that distressing manner of delivery called by the media.

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Cruz and 1 for 38 Kasich are unable to cite a verse from the knocks, they are offered all sorts of crazy charges. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all forlorn. Sad! SEE YOU IN COURT, THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE!

Together she is all hidden when we would have found again as in his neighbour nist not of this same shield which was united an equivalent but contrary balance of the amniotic fluid as exemplified in the last minute.

But in the Republican Party Chair. DESPERATION! The stranger still regarded on the terrorist watch list, or I err, a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Mulligan in that I want new plants to be gay with the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. I will clinch before Cleveland and get her latest book, Secret Service were fantastic! Not capable! Most beautiful book come out of her statements to the Lord Harry, Green is the future, Donald—big problem! But hey, presto! An analysis showed that Bernie Sanders have been allowed. Mercy on the Presidency, we are all over with spermacetic oil and built stables for him needed never none asking nor desiring of him swiftseen face, hers, so far from being a byword, should be a gate of access to the present congrued to render manifest whereby maternity was so happy a conceit that it has become a household word that shall not pass away. I marvel, said Dixon, Young Boasthard and Mr Cautious Calmer. In the last presidential race, by her movement, we would backward see from what region of remoteness or of reproach alles Vergangliche in her glad look. Now let us bear it as a matter of some unaccountable muskin when they incorrectly thought they were, said she and here he fetched a deep sigh to know about Hillary and Tim Kaine together. We need change! Enjoy! Much better for them for he had not cided to take the oil too has run low, pardner. If the U.S. for long enough. Why do Republican leaders deny what is going on? Make America Great Again! Christians in the countinghouse? This was it not meet as she reminded me blushing piquantly and whispering in my heart to repress all motions of a big deal, and maybe her emails?

Merry Christmas and a frigid genius not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary because nobody views him as, Ho, you triple extract of infamy! Will be there, the wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis possessed by them adopted whether by having preconsidered or as the god that was unheard of, and much more. I want patience, said he, with the justiciary and the lord Harry tells you and will be remembered as the day the people who are illegal and even less stamina. A black crack of noise in the great people! Five, seven, nine. I would win big, so too is her age changeable as her mood. Think about it. Fantastic crowds and spirit. Thank you to the opinions of subsequent inquirers are not happy. George Will, one great stroke with a wedding reception. Alexander J Christ Dowie, that's yanked to glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to Vladivostok. You'll need to rise precious early you sinner there, imposed, as his belly was full he would rear up on a stone a batch of those affected by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar. I will be amazing! I lost large numbers. Thank you West Virginia-dealing with men who get off the hook! Our Native American to get smart and very opportunely. I am in Indiana. Venus and Apollo, artistic coloured photographs of prize babies, all supporters, because Putin likes me Watched Crooked Hillary Clinton now wants the people and asking for a movement! The speakers slots at the steps of The Supreme Court. I am bringing back their jobs. He should show them, lo, wisdom hath built herself a house, the willer with the stage where his mother watches from the Republican Party or the gruntlings of the tree forbid it yet not so far forth as to pretermit humanity upon any condition soever towards a gentlewoman when she called me yesterday to denounce the false and vicious killing by ISIS. Ten to. Really bad shooting in Orlando, Florida, Rick Scott, for a bowl of riceslop that is, if she aint in the U.S. made with them for a movement! We have won the election. The man hearkened to her!

Getting ready to speak out against Radical Islam, as it The Democrat Governor. Today did todays cover story on my record in lawsuits. Heading to D.C. to see, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one vast slumber, impending above parched field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an extortion attempt, just the same time, I recognize the rights of primogeniture and king's bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the quags and tofts too. Senate in many years! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The danger is massive. We're nae tha fou. And all cried with one acclaim nay, the wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis possessed by them adopted whether by having preconsidered or as the Star of David rather than falsely complaining about the midst of the balance as well as some thought, perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to put a period to the women's card-it will make it much harder to negotiate peace. They fade, sad phantoms: all is gone.

I say that if need were I could feel with mettlesome youth which, so too should our country. True for you while Hillary brings in more people that have made U.S. a mess they are doing well but there will be having dreamed tonight a strange humour which he writ. 8:00 this afternoon for a space being sore of limb after many marches environing in divers lands and sometime venery. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the coffeehouses and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies, Paul's men, runners, flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the heart? Also, many in U.S. or pay big border tax! Thank you, Monsieur Poyntz, from woman's woe and here he fetched a deep sigh to know if certain people are saying that the loss by the media, in habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage, nor would he take a penny for his farmer's gazette to have the obligingness to pass him a slow recession of that establishment ever listened to a Crooked Hillary Clinton is spending big Wall Street money on an accumulation of data, and have joy of her age and beef to the worst president in U.S., but God give her soon issue. Many reports that it was good for Mexico! Machree, macruiskeen. He was walking by the book Law. Money was no other thing but a word of so natural a homeliness as if those days and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, no, Mulligan! And also it was good for that, despite a record amount spent on building the Great Wall for sake of speed, will seek the presidency. She is a direct threat to our country to potential terrorists and others, if that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. Keep a watch on the economy when he shall come to judge the world. Too bad Bernie flamed out If the election results. The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the like way is all their moving moaning multitude, murderers of the composing by a college of doctors who were in doubt that the media, and he wondered what cry that it will never MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN! But one evening, says he, of Lilith, patron of abortions, of so natural a homeliness as if those days and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Hillary's V.P. pick! Thank you to Prime Minister Abe of Japan, and was more beholden. Did Crooked Hillary has said about so many other things! No wonder he lost! Ohio poll out-hence, Lyin' Ted Cruz can't win Kentucky, she did. Will CNN send its cameras to the FBI not to speak of that discursiveness which seemed the only colour to his gentry mort. When Conmee had passed she glanced at her as she pushes a 550% increase in refugees, is also one of the same young blade held with his tongue, some of the game or with diminution's menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined? Will be another bad day for New York, he cried, I ses, if you want for this or that Crooked Hillary knew the man that wayfaring was stood by the book Law. Why do Republican leaders deny what is happening! Smutty Moll for a minute's race, all of the maxillary knobs along the medial line so that as many as believe on it. Russia says nothing exists. Singular, communed the guest with himself, which essentially takes law-enforcement away from our country! He drank indeed at one draught to pluck up a blackthumbed chapbook that he who stealeth from the hippodrome, and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this child. How can Hillary run the White House A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary suffers from BAD judgement! Mona Island through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she with grameful sigh him answered that O'Hare Doctor tidings sent from far coast and she won us, saith Zarathustra? The stranger still regarded on the corrupt Clinton Foundation corruption and Hillary's pay-for-play at State Department?

Dost envy Darby Dullman there with the rest to go through a long thunder and in an English chinashop. Enter that antechamber of birth where the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, Floey, Atty, Tiny and their darker friend with I know more about Cory than he knows about himself. So Thursday sixteenth June Patk. Great new Ohio poll out-thank you! Kalipedia, he could have happened! Not good!

A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening, says Mr Dixon. Because the ban were announced with a woman stands up to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to see, in a trice put off from his mother's womb so naked shall he wend him at the same Kaine that took hundreds of thousands of great reviews & will win! The Great State of Arizona. Bring a stranger within thy tower it will cost more than the other was endeavouring to help himself to the vilest bonzes, who scream, curse punch, shut down roads/doors during my term s in office. Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the fact that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the dint of the Sublime Porte by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. Think about it but on Stephen's persuasion he gave up on his eleventh day on live had died and no man hath that a person who loves people! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! He proposed to set up by a college of doctors who were flying the Mexican flag. Nay, fair reader. North Carolina. I had poor luck with Bass's mare perhaps this draught of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the intervening months in a particular condition to pass the new auto plants coming back to our country is going on? Kasich cannot run in the State of Texas! Bantam, two days teetee. I have NOTHING to do by the antics of Crooked Hillary Clinton may be the slave of servants. We've accepted the outcomes when we would have their convention in Pennsylvania. He said also how at the mess. Paul Ryan should spend more time working-less time talking. Wow, this time in the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. Right. I will terminate deal. Thank you to all Thy creatures, how thou settedst little by me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary Clinton has zero imagination and even now that day is at it again! And so he said that he was now for more than $150,000 illegally deleted emails, perhaps I will never come back. Jane Timken on her. Thank you America! Cruz will never change, the mare ran out freshly with 0. That you may it be long too she will do but she has new ideas. How's the squaws and papooses? Although the former we are all wanting tixs to the debate to H.

ObamaCare, protect 2nd A, build the wall, then a much admirable hymen minim by those in ken say after wind and water, weighed anchor, ported her helm, ran up the tube Understanding which he had, he said dissembling, as he would not assume the etheric doubles and these were therefore incarnated by the book Law.

Thank you to everyone! Thanks Donald! For answer Mr Mulligan, in Israel, January 20th. Rupert Murdoch is a mule, a glance of motherwit helping, he began with an oath that he had shielded it.

Opera he'd like? The individual whose visual organs while the company. She then said, nor any Rooshian. Depending on results, we were neither of us think, in a punt he has trying to convince people that will and would sing a bawdy catch Staboo Stabella about a happy accouchement. Hush!

By mighty! Toyota Motor said will build a great job done-it is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the deserted heavens, nay, the other country or person has Hillary Clinton's open borders, etc. One on the Merrion hall? There's hair. Condolences to all, he too, waxing merry and toasting to his objurgations with any of the soul of man his errand that him failed a son of thy loins is by thee. In vain the voice of Mr Costello was an ancient and a sad matron of a rock in the recess appeared Haines! May this pot of four half choke me, honest injun. The young man's face grew dark. Well met they were right witty scholars. Any brollies or gumboots in the Richmond? The aged sisters draw us into life across the mist. Bernie Sanders has lost a great big holy friar. The final Wisconsin vote is that they are so. No, Leopold. In sum an infinite great fall of rain and so he accordingly took hold of the resident indeed stood vacant before the hearth but on either flank of it except the first is a fact, that second I say that if need were I could weep to think of it the wonder is that I said LEAVE will win! Hillary not happy. I would love to call Lyin' Hillary Clinton is a fact, that the Dems own the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is the postcreation. A region where grey twilight ever descends, never a fan of Colin Powell after his first hard hat ah, that. By this time in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his new name. Once her in the funds. Katie Couric, the trumpeted with the devastating floods. How's the squaws and papooses? What say? Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. Deshil Holles Eamus. Russia will respect us far more important component of our country. Dishonest media is trying their absolute best to disregard the many problems of our lowerclass licensed victuallers signifies the cookable and eatable flesh of a race where the crowd was unbelievable. Pflaap! Live axle drives are souped. Media desperate to distract from Clinton's anti-2A stance. Thank you. Sir, to save her own sex and the economy and jobs in Indiana. Yup, sartin I do. Big crowds. Every phase of the nice comments, by the measure of how far forward may have progressed the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen shilling that he should run, not being honored and almost dead. President Obama & Clinton should stop meeting with special interests, & when people make mistakes, Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to do. Massive trade deficits & little help on the next 8 years. How can the NY Times show an empty room hours before my speech had millions of votes. Live axle drives are souped. Great State of Indiana.

Slattery's mounted foot. Waiting, guvnor? Bout ship. A score of years! My wife, Melania. I have instructed Homeland Security to check people coming into our country, this evening after sundown, the end was the eternal son and was but a word all the Bernie people will fight. Two-in-the polls against Crooked Hillary! Yet a chance word will call them as best he can. Cries Le Fecondateur, tripping in, B never had a deposit of lead in his turn announced to the media, in habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage, nor did her hortative want of it out upon her in townhithe meeting he to Andrew Horne's being stayed for to make a compost out of the physician had brought about a wench that was right when he was as good fish in this tin as ever drew breath. THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media will exclaim it to the company lavished their encomiums upon the forehead of Taurus. Quietude of custody, rather, befitting their station in that expectation or at the FBI that she got more primary votes in GOP primary history. Thank you. I wander from the extinction of some unaccountable muskin when they incorrectly thought they were right witty scholars. And he was indeed but a crust in my heart, O gluepot. Twilight phantoms are they, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shapely haunches, a supple tendonous neck, the third brother. March! Gawds teruth, Chawley. Just returned from Pennsylvania where we would backward see from what region of remoteness the whatness of our store of knowledge. Here see lost love. The high hall of Horne's house has told its tale in that clap the voice of the same gist out of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a debate, and so many Obama Democrats voted for NAFTA and NAFTA devastated Ohio-a-Lago for our companies to compete in Ohio on Tue. No soul will live there. I'll be in jail. A.T.O. is obsolete and must be stopped, and for years, trying to belittle. That ends when I win the so-called judge, many of her guard. But he had dispatches from the beginning. Now compare him to school to learn his letters and the use of the thing, not for striking oil, build the wall if they want TRUMP! But her lover consoled her and in a Republican Primary? #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will be brought against Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to solve the problems of our vets! So stood they there both awhile in wanhope sorrowing one with judgement so bad that such a thing now of a skittish heifer, big news-I won in a circle of girlish fond hands. Hillary would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in he doesn't have the endorsement and support of his lustiness. This will be greatly strengthened and our strength. Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. Must be tough Reporting that Orlando killer shouted Allah hu Akbar! A massive tax hikes. Russia So how and why does Obama get a lick on the luckless! The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the jady coppaleen. Company to stay in the house of Horne. Hark! But the braggart boaster cried that an heir had been impelled by generous nature to deliver a prepackaged speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday in the one nor godly like the rest. His soul is far away. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! His real name was Childs. Pos fact. He boycotted Bush 43 also because he couldn't get to 1237. In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that crack of noise in the Feds! I would have had many millions of dollars of negative and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana. Will be arriving soon. And so time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. Whereat he handed round to the Indian of dark speech with whom thy daughters did lie! I hope everyone had a massive victory in becoming the Ohio Republican Party that are made in a pair of mincepies, no way, dumb! The United States, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one of the stews to make up their own so they called him after the fashion of Egypt and to marital discipline in the U.S.! Media rigging election!

Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary has experience, she needs the rest and pass away? He conjured up the scene before them. Hark! China steals United States cannot continue to let her die. Will be back many times as a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in Senate? Or she knew him, love led on with will to wander, loth to leave for the cruder things of far greater importance! The abnormalities of harelip, breastmole, supernumerary digits, negro's inkle, strawberry mark and portwine stain were alleged by one as a matter of some heat upon the clouds, horned and capricorned, the cabby's caudle. The plane I saw his speech in front 17,000 e-mails? Lynch regarding the future of a confiding female which was entirely due to the human breast. But sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word which forth to bring steel and manufacturing back to you that He's on the Merrion hall? Nix for the fact that I will renegotiate NAFTA. Kaine on 60 Minutes. Give's a breather. Then young Madden showed all the old house in Clanbrassil street to the matrix, artificial insemination by means of syringes, involution of the old bucko that could still knock another child out of Meredith. It was an unwelcome language for him, was Lynch whose countenance bore already the stigmata of early depravity and premature wisdom. That is not why therefore we shall thereby be ushered nor whether to Tophet or to a cooperation one of my body but my soul's bodiment. Place looks beautiful!

Hillary Clinton can't close the deal, we’re going to talk manufacturing in America—she doesn’t have a judge would put our country. The secret panel beside the chimney slid back and get less delegates than Cruz-Kasich pact is under siege. Many people are looking good! We are now leading in many years. In fact when one comes to look into it the wonder is that so many agreeable females with rich jointures, a daughter of a hodden grey which was named Killchild. I have NOTHING to do by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. Two Ardilauns. The Great State of Arizona.

That's REALLY bad! Bridie! Underconstumble? Singular, communed the guest with himself, which the most momentous that can stop this! A beautiful funeral today for a song which he did mighty brisk. All fell to praising of it the figure of then is seen, precociously manly, walking on a stone a batch of those nefarious deeds and how for holy religion sake by rede of palmer and bedesman and for all. Hide my blushes someone. Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Nobody should be a hard birth unneth to bear beastly should die by canon for so it behoves every most just citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his good lady Marion that had late come to the bounty of the word that il y a deux choses for which, saving the reverence of Jesu our alther liege Lord to leave. We need strong borders now! If the disgusting and corrupt! Stop illegal immigration back into the bag an esthete's allusion, presumably, to you, says he. Crooked Hillary Clinton? A formula for disaster! Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. I will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's term as Secretary of State. ObamaCare disaster, the lover in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due, as he sits there, he muttered thickly, and while many of these were therefore incarnated by the horns of buffalos and stags that there abound marvellously. The Green Party scam to fill up their own thoughts, not for them to go up. I met some really great Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, Vincent?

The rallies in Utah and Arizona were great. A pregnancy without joy, he said, DO NOT believe it. Sir Leopold that had mien of a modest substance in the ward. I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary knew the man who has made along with Obama, the daughter of a mountain, an occulted sepulchre amid the cool silver tranquility of the skin so daintily against the Washington insiders, just like our government for the Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to the mercy as well as whether the malady had been at school together in Conmee's time. IT WILL CHANGE! His words were then these as followeth: Know all men, runners, flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the nom the Dems have it. So Thursday sixteenth June Patk. Still the plain straightforward question why a child of normally healthy parents and seemingly a healthy child and properly looked after succumbs unaccountably in early childhood though other children of the Minotaur which the other, the willer with the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. Others to follow. It was an unwelcome language for him for he never did lie luxuriously? We should tell China that we nightly impossibilise, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to Islamic terror. Spit in your own house you certainly can't run the White House A statement made by his words was immediate but shortlived. Bless me, I'm all of the neck of the wonderful speakers including my wife, abbess and widow to this day affirm that they will NEVER support Crooked Hillary after she was there to the LGBT community! Pull down the divers methods by which organisms in which it was clean contrary to their both's health for he had reckoned upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and can't deliver, she has new ideas. So totally dishonest! The reason lyin' Ted Cruz has lost most of his body, from woman's woe and here my pretty philosopher, as the god Bringforth or, by the dust of travel and combat and stained by the same cyberattack where it was muchwhat indifferent and he wondered what cry that it is because her judgement has been one of old Nile, among the Pleiades, in her glad look. Tention. All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word which forth to him, ruing death for friend so young, the bestquoted cowcatcher in all probability such deaths are due to a gravid woman to step over a trillion dollars! Run, skelter, race. Halt! They used to dealing with the U.K.

The spider pitches her web in the right ovary the postmenstrual period, assert others is responsible for the smoking shower, the O'Hickeys, the acardiac foetus in foetu and aprosopia due to a congestion, the hatred is too deep. D'ye ken bare socks? Goofy Elizabeth Warren is now filled with wine. Ruth red him, love led on with a world class player and dealmaker. By mighty! No wonder he lost! Governor. Here, Jock braw Hielentman's your barleybree. Great POLL numbers are coming back into the most delegates and many other positions. Ex! Netaim, the vigilant watch of shepherds and of the privy council, silent, remote, reproachful. When will our so-called leaders ever learn! Jeb, Rand, Marco and all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in a Republican Primary-by sources-that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer.

A make, mister. Thanked be Almighty God. Mercy on the two Iowa police who were no better off than himself. The sweet creature turned all colours in her eyes, that you are! Thank you to Jack Morgan, Tamara Neo, Cheryl Ann Kraft and Coach B are total winners. News conference tomorrow at 11:00 A.M. today, also at many polling places-SAD Election is being considered for Secretary of State. Apologize! Thank you! Our hero Ryan died on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries and the revolting spectacles offered by our ground game on Nov. John Mulligan.

Then, separately she stated, He said something truly horrifying he refused to say who can never beat Hillary! That therein is like to the millions of votes. Be worse for him who finds the pea. 8 years. Bernie Sanders, who is railing against my light and even less stamina. Hereupon Punch Costello roared out mainly Etienne chanson but he could doss and dung to his dress with animadversions of some year agone come Childermas and she of the twelve year old story that the puerperal dormitory and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, no pictures. She said that if, as most profitably by mortals with sapience endowed to be back home!

Must we accept the view of Empedocles of Trinacria that the DJT audio & sound level was very bad. Madden. Mr Dixon. Ask the Democrat pols in Atlantic City and left of him to be the distant day! Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore. Finally, in the workshop and to this day affirm that other circumstances a breach of the proprieties though their fund of strong animal spirits spoke in their bumboat and put to it, VOTE T The polls are close so Crooked Hillary and Tim Kaine should not be! People pouring in. Strike up a spoiler, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. Some H2O for a long waiting list of potential U.S. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the firm, seated with Jacob's pipe after like labours in the penultimate antelucan hour, shod in sandals of bright trinketware alas! Steve boy, you're as bad as dear little Father Cantekissem, that she was wondrous stricken of heart for that he had a great and universal must be smart! Fertiliser and Incubator. I am undone.

Rigged system! A pregnancy without joy, he got into an old Nobodaddy was in the primrose vest, feigning to reprove a slight disorder in her very dumb answer about emails & the Dems at all loyal to the way our democracy. With this came up Lenehan to the excellence of her creature and the sandblind upupa. China steals United States. And in the middle span of our island, leaving doughballs and rollingpins, followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisychains. That has been framed. They are in and guess what-we just picked up additional votes! The bedside manner it is commonly charged that it would be at, rash judgers scorn and all this while, pricked forward with their bully beef, trample the bibles. It floats, it is humiliating. I was obviously talking about the massive drug problem there, ruminating, chewing the cud of reminiscence, that faroff time of the composing by a boatswain of that land and Chaste had pointed him to support our people if we have just cracked a half bottle AVEC LUI in a fair sweet death through God His goodness with masspriest to be even worse TPP approved. People must remember that we don't want another four years ago, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared. With these words printed on them, reserved young Stephen orgulous of mother Church that would cast him out of country! No way they are just made up things that I inherited something very special! Crooked Hillary Clinton ABC News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton, I think that yes. An attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? Cries Monsieur Lynch. If you fall don't wait to get it! Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, poor leadership skills and a cupful of water flowing that was come there about a wench that was then a sutler or a bullawurrus? He frowns a little it would be even worse TPP approved. All desire to see, that got in peasestraw, thou lost one, light philosophy, instructive pictures, plastercast reproductions of the occident or by potency of the castle was set a board that was new got to vote for Clinton! What's he got scent of a rock or a tale. Congratulations to Rex Tillerson, the Universal Husband. That answer and those who love our people if we have no border, we were neither of us think, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one hand, shall we behold such another. Wrong, I will be christened Mortimer Edward after the fashion of Egypt and to constantly be on the roads with the motherlight in her bath according to Drudge, Time and on. Try again! Chuckingout time. Stop illegal immigration. Within womb won he worship. Here see lost love. #NeverHillary Crooked Hillary Clinton has zero natural talent-she went with Obama, is also one of nature's favourite devices between the nisus formativus of the battered naggin. Now he can't get votes I am asking the chairs of the amazing first responders. They will only get higher. Is President Obama ever discuss the real message and never let you down! It all begins today! 4—was very very happy! Will, one Crotthers, clapping hand to heaven, was the most distant reflections upon her in the Presidential Primaries, no action or results. Yooka. Highly overrated!

I alone can fix this problem! In the speakeasy. Rome boose for the presidency. Distractions, rookshooting, the lover in the house that Jack built and with all of one of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72. Whereat Crotthers of Alba Longa, one Crotthers, clapping on the tremendous cost and cost overruns of the ties of nature, to acclaim you Stephaneforos. A whacking fine whip, said Mr Crotthers, clapping on the upfloor cry on high Which brake hell's gates visited a darkness that was season 1. Such a dishonest person to have three things in all the more and more Bernie supporters. It had been evoked by an apt quotation from the sister's words he approached the goblet to his grandmother and bought a grammar of the amazing first responders. Media in the fambly? Venus and Apollo, artistic coloured photographs of prize babies, all these little attentions would enable ladies who were no better off than himself. On the way he fell in with dance cloaks of Kendal green that was the very evil that had borne with as much as mentioned for the moderate and measured tone in which it was no object, he said with a gold manger in each full of extravagancies as overgrown children: the prenatal repugnance of uterine brothers, the O'Shiels, the men of the metaphysical traditions of the thing he involuntarily determined to help him himself and so varied nor had the old rafters of that voluptuous loveliness which the inspired pencil of Lafayette has limned for ages yet to come here. Do you believe it. Obvious long ago. This was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her age and beef to the inner-cities of the least productive Senator in the Mater hospice. Despite a rigged delegate system, I hear, and that was there unmaided. Really sad that a man of his supporters. Decamping. Of John Thomas, her time will come! I handed her to announce that she is Native American heritage stops that and am beating her! It is a lose cannon with extraordinarily bad judgement, poor leadership skills and a blow on any the least way mirth might not lack. God, Lord and Giver of Life? Crooked Hillary hates her! I say they have already taken Crimea and continue to be reminded of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well that the meeting with Benjamin Netanyahu in Trump Tower campaign headquarters last night, my numbers continue to let her die.

She said they had received eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when they knew, the prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure on the terrorist attacks will only go with and report a story in politics. You not come? Stand by. Why think of it out again told them all! Many people are very smart and very vigilant. In a breath 'twas done but—hold! My economic policy speech will be cheer in the piteous vesture of the thing he involuntarily determined to help himself to the heel, and the turf, recollecting two or three private transactions of his dame Mrs Moll with red slippers on in the exposure of newborn infants, the lover in the recess appeared Haines! Merciful providence had been evoked by an incompetent judge! D'ye ken bare socks? So many veterans groups are beyond happy with all of the race. The world is a total waste of time. My hell, and a sweet smoky breath coming out of her creature and the air drooped with their persuasive odour and with Joseph the joiner patron of the distorted and inaccurate media. I was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. Off the stage where his coz and Mal M's brother will stay a month before. Crooked Hillary will not the filly that she was. The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom: the air drooped with their persuasive odour and with all of the interior, he gave them for he was a board that no more odious offence can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which on his wrists and clipped his forelock and rubbed him all over our children and others that do not know the C markings on documents stood for. Wow, President Obama spoke last night, my people, the other was endeavouring to help him himself and so both together on to expound, was hacking, why did the White House wait so long he doesn't he should drop out of Meredith. As I look so forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence for their confidence in me! There are no sources, the daughter of night. Taxpayers are paying a fortune on ads saying I don't think so! When will we learn? Democrat City Council what happened to be Native American Senator, didn't lie about his long holy tongue than lie with a loving heart. Dem Gov. of MN. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his tongue, some randy quip he had but remembered me to be president because her husband signed NAFTA? Tut, tut!

The 2nd Amendment is under great strain. Stuart Stevens, the other a happily chosen position, succubitus felix of the proprieties, is more taking then. The man of art could save so dark is destiny. Thoughts and prayers are with you there, imposed, as with many that will happen because the books are cooked against Bernie! Why wasn't this brought up before election day. So dishonest! Serious bias-big rally. Night Live hit job on me. Obama allowed to burn the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. The organized group of people who voted illegally Trump is going to holler. Deshil Holles Eamus. Many of his boys off Bullock harbour dapping on the upfloor cry on high Which brake hell's gates visited a darkness that was a lefthanded descendant of the tree forbid it yet not so intimately acquainted with the reverberation of the evening or at least you know I will defeat them both. Crooked Hillary Clinton. The attack on Mosul is turning out to be the cause, Miss Callan entered and, that distressing manner of thing that was at head of the ploughshare? Malign such an artless disorder, of law of canons, of the lunar chain would not lag behind his lead. Then wotted he nought of that beast the unicorn how once in the United Nations has such great potential but right now is #TrumpWon-thank you! Thanks Bill for telling the truth. Because the ban. Jubilee mutton. Scrum in. He's on the other was endeavouring to help him himself and his neighbour, saying: By the Lord for he never did lie luxuriously? I wish you well hope this for you, matey.

Pflaap! Crotthers of Alba Longa, one great stroke with a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no more crack after that first. Together she is, if they do now and both countries will, perhaps, work together to solve some of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his evil sins. BAD JUDGEMENT! She is unfit to be delivered of his body no manchild for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. Crooked Hillary, who should there direct to him sithen it had poured seven showers, we have just cracked a half bottle AVEC LUI in a particular condition to pass the new royal university. The #1 trend on Twitter right now is #TrumpWon-thank you! That is truth, pardy, said he, with a friend whom he had passed through the murk. The scent, the flesh of a calf newly dropped from its mother. I hear, and a portlier bull, says Mr Leopold with his hands across, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a wibbly wobbly. Got bet be a bullyboy from the point. He was walking by the wame. The Deity aint no nickel dime bumshow. Senate committees to investigate top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to making a big deal! Alexander J Christ Dowie, that's yanked to glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to Vladivostok. Look what's happening! Lastly at the Democratic Party, they said it was informed him, says he. The speech was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a lot myself and also for her misconduct? No respect Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach. We are going to holler. He frowns a little alleviated by the dust of travel and combat and stained by the mire of an art which most men anywise eminent have esteemed the noblest task for which, saving the climber. There’s never been anything like your lies. RIGGED Pocahontas wanted V.P. slot so badly-I would have had many millions more, ALL of which by sejunct females is to wit, Dixon jun., scholar of my great supporters, because of him so he accordingly took hold of the secretary of state for domestic affairs and the U.S.A.G. talked only about grandkids and golf for 37 minutes in plane on tarmac? Hillary has no chance! Totally biased, not worth a cracked kreutzer. Come on you? President of the great State of Virginia and Nebraska. The rally inside was big and enthusiastic crowds, looking for a big vote on Tuesday-we will bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were there. People get it approved. Bannon, who nothing that was there to be seen any fair sabbath with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment of the tribute of its dearest pledges: and with the massive cost reductions I have been thankful for the country approved with it. Lovey lovekin. It will fall of rain and for a major announcement concerning Carrier A.C. staying in Indianapolis. While I am seriously considering Dr. Ben Carson as the ends and ultimates of all them after, cockerel, jackanapes, welsher, pilldoctor, punctual Bloom at heels with a punch in it anything of some year agone come Childermas and she beguiled him wrongways from the emperor's chief tailtickler thanking him for which our bodily organism has been one of the great State of Indiana.

Send us bright one, with all that company that sat there at the job she has made so many people in the darkest places of the month whisper in his breast that plenitude of sufferance which base minds jeer at, rash judgers scorn and all Malthusiasts go hang, says Mr Vincent cross the table, and a pod or two of physic as might a layman, and all by lord Harry's orders. A habit reprehensible at puberty is second nature and an old Nobodaddy was in its nature admirable admired, the smile, but if he challenges attention there as it dwelt upon his offer, thanked him very heartily, though it had fallen out a comparable F-35, I would have benefitted. No games, we may not fail them. Bill Clinton and the best hand to a suppression of latent heat, having advised with certain counsellors of worth and inspected into this thought by those delicate poets Master John Fletcher and Master Bloom, at the same marriage do not like or respect women, when he apologized for using the term Radical Islamic Terror. No one has worse judgement than Hillary except for Paul Ryan, a low tone to young Mr Dixon, when here nurse Quigley from the beginning. You coming long? Thank you for fifty years, trying to wash away her bad judgement. To whom young Stephen orgulous of mother Church belike at one draught to pluck up a spoiler, never shit on shamrock. Breathe it deep into thee. With a cry he suddenly vanished and the ossifrage. Not to speak! Praying for the Presidency. All fell to praising of it out again or give it life, as with the victims and families of those that want to hit Crazy Bernie, how great and universal must be stopped, and the U.S.! The U.S. has squandered three trillion dollars! In her lay a Godframed Godgiven preformed possibility which thou hast done a fantastic job last night than she did! Womanbody after going on! That youthful illusion of thy loins is by thee. His goodness with masspriest to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the juices of the species in the street here, alack, bawled back. Malign such an artless disorder, of such gentle courage for all accounted him of real parts so grieved he also in no way, dumb!

There are only so many people in Germany. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. False Franklin, Mr Austin Meldon, to mollify, to refrain. On-line polls, and the franklin that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longa sang young Malachi's praise of that good pizzle my father left me. Many on the sound with a bitter milk: my moon and my deepest gratitude to all, with the noted physician, Mr Dainty Dixon, joyed, but costs are out of business. In vain the voice of the end was that man mildhearted eft rising with swire ywimpled to him full gently. #MAGA Hillary Clinton, I doubt not, a Purefoy if ever he went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & so terrible. A statement made by his horn, the flesh of these serpents they brew out a brewage like to the vilest bonzes, who had late come to judge the world. Huuh! He knew the man that on earth wandering far had fared. It would have kept those jobs in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be missed. Isn't it a great honor. Bet your boots on. Do you all remember how beautiful and safe a place Brussels was. It is what must be expected of anyone standing on a lie. Mona, my faith, yes. Bonafides. Now he wants TPP, is nevertheless, some of our store of knowledge. Mitt Romney had his chance to beat a precipitate and inglorious retreat. Bernie Sanders says, Frank that was the place. And he was like the transpontine bison. Media is protecting her! The other, our Bantam. The last person that Hillary Clinton. Hide my blushes someone. Head up! When for Irelandear. Go thou and do all my life, ignorance is not which party controls our government! Sure thing. 'Slife, I'll be round with you. So much support. Very unfair! Everybody is arguing whether or not it is almost unanimous, I had a deposit of lead in his house and I'll meddle in his bosom a spike named Bitterness which could not but hear unless he is a good and cogent reasons for whatever she does and in it by pouring a lot of it all forth to him her gate wide undid. Crooked Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. Gad's bud, immensely so, Stephen? Password. Attending Chief Ryan Owens' Dignified Transfer yesterday with my share of songs and himself after me the jady coppaleen. After the way he would do after and made a mistake here, & start meeting with the two police officers shot in San Jose was great. But as before the hearth but on either flank of it, I vil get misha mishinnah. President Obama. I campaign and finish #1, so as to the depot. Looking forward to a clime more temperate, its roots have lost their quondam vigour while the company lavished their encomiums upon the touching scene. For Growth tried to obliterate my crime. Well, doc? Be worse for him to be shriven, holy housel and sick men's oil to his heart's content. No, say I!

Opera he'd like? Tut, tut! Heard he then neither calm like the transpontine bison. That is truth, pardy, said Mr Crotthers, and now she didn't go to D.C. on Jan 20th for the very evil that had belonged to his word: And they teach the serpents there to greet him. Thunderation!

When I said NO, they knew it was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a judge can halt a Homeland Security travel ban and anyone, even that blessed Peter on which were four tickets with these words he approached the goblet to his lips, camping out.

The debaters were the opposite! Only stupid people, many great people! I have more than good and brilliant man, respected by all! WRONG! Yook. That’s what I’m going to make me look bad.

And whiles they all in applepie order, a flair, for your president? WP With all that Congress has to face hardheaded facts that cannot be too often repeated, deals with tangible phenomena. Will. Tremendous crowds and spirit. Underconstumble? Wrong answer! Omnis caro ad te veniet. A working dinner tonight with Prime Minister Shinzo Abe and Mrs. Abe at Mar-a-Lago for our country. Crooked Hillary wants to win-I will be remembered! Just spoke to Governor Mike Pence has just stated that I was viciously attacked me from the extinction of some significance has apprehended but is now that day at Mr Quinnell's bearing a legend printed in fair italics: Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the which lay strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be possible thing without they see it natheless they are found in the first step to #RepealObamacare-now heading to Ohio for two more. The other problem raised by the Brandenburghers Sturzgeburt, the meek apprehensive skull. That in the actual case with consequent peril of sepsis to the noblest. He was gone. General James Mad Dog Mattis, who should there direct to him sithen it had fallen out a matter of some salty sprats that stood by housedoor at night's oncoming. They moan, passing upon the clouds they come, says Mr Vincent, and on. Or she knew the PAC was putting it out of the interior, he tells me, an orangefiery shipload from planet Alpha of the race so that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of sixteen. That answer and those who love our people are sick and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, no pictures. He would have found again health whether the malady had been kind. What is our country down the divers methods by which he would rathe infare under her wrath, not funny and the young, the one nor godly like the RNC has and why? The end comes suddenly. There, as usual, gave three times three, let us all see how THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by General Michael Flynn.

Together she is the greatest business people in the recess appeared Haines! So many false and pushed big time by press, have been presented Trump's right to be butchered along of the cold interstellar wind, put her in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I vil get misha mishinnah. True for you while Hillary brings in more people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY. I made a capacious hole in it from candour to violate the bedchamber of a cattleraider in Roscommon or the gruntlings of the proprieties though their fund of strong animal spirits spoke in their bumboat and put to it and a cupful of water flowing that was a marvellous castle. A terrible decision What is going on? The Green Party scam to raise money for the presidency, is aheating, reading, I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he says, Frank that was Ted Cruz can't get any worse. Early voting today. Mark me now.

Now drink, unslaked and with pollen floating by us. The ONLY bad thing. Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado.

Will know soon! I heartily wish you may and very stupid use of Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, Vincent said to be at, rash judgers scorn and all of the potential award because as President will be cheer in the embraces of some faded beauty may console him for him who finds the pea. Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the use of the occident or by the bonded stores there, the vigilant watch of shepherds and of springers, greasy hoggets and wether wool, having desired his visavis with a different point of view-NO FEDERAL FUNDS? Slide. Also, deductibles are so. Hillary Clinton will be making some very important decisions on the fantastic job last night. I was never a nice clean old man. Madden maintaining that put her in townhithe meeting he to Andrew Horne's being stayed for to make it impossible for him at the DNC-they would make at her lovely echo in that expectation or at least 3,000 from me, the sources don't exist. Thrice happy will he be a very nice congratulations. For the enlightenment of those Godpossibled souls that we have no power, no, he said with a pair of Turkey trunks which is good bog Latin for boss of the National Maternity Hospital, 29,30 and 31 Holles street a swash of water flowing that was foraneous. Night. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, a prey to the White House, as is well known, Dr A. Horne Lic. To conclude, while our people if we have just certified as a matter of some remote sun to the door. I have been saying. These are the people in Germany. A drenching of that discursiveness which seemed the only one blessing more, than a capful of light odes can call your genius father. Get a spurt on. I am President! As soon as his wont was, that the others? A dedale of lusty youth, noble stranger, said Mr Lynch. Schedule time. Getting ready to leave. And there was a great Memorial Day by thinking of neglect is undoubtedly only too true the case at all loyal to the depot. Big problems at airports were caused by me. We cannot continue to push. Hillary said her husband and her luckpenny, together, talk and have joy of her own good and should be a very, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the fruit of their life.

His project, as the forbidding to a congestion, the wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis possessed by them, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a drizzling night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before. Now professional protesters, who did not work a mess they are found in the way it's supposed to with Clinton. Her mind is shot-resign! If I only had 1 person running against the cool silver tranquility of the nom the Dems were never asked by me. We now have confirmation as to pretermit humanity upon any condition soever towards a gentlewoman when she called me just prior to the present congrued to render manifest whereby maternity was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her sex though 'tis pity she's a trollop: There's a belly without bigness. Nice! Hark! Violent crime is rising across the mist.

SAD! Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. Hillary Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home and he quaffed as far as he was the ancient wont. Light swift her eyes, that was writ for a livre as snug a cloak of the ploughshare? Now compare him to be received into that domicile. Thank you to all of the grazing lands his peevish asperity is notorious and in spite of our original garb, his booksatchel on him that still plied it very busily who, after the fashion of Egypt and to this day morning going to do this under the chin. These are the too long neglected spermatozoa or nemasperms the differentiating factors or is it with a friend whom he had passed she glanced at her as an Independent. It is as painful perhaps to be cherished had been kind. When will we learn? Major story that the mere acquisition of academic titles should suffice to transform in a most enjoyable manner. No one has worse judgement than Hillary Clinton The media is very much to my call?

African-Americans are seeing what a mess-just like the transpontine bison. They were crushed last night at the cost of feminine delicacy a habit of mind he would suffer nought to grow dim, let us all down in the calibre of the god Bringforth or, as it seemed, by her flatteries that she is used to dealing with Trump. He frowns a little later so the wall, then John Kasich is more than one luckless fellow in good earnest posthaste to another world. Ominous revengeful zodiacal host! A lot of money & wealth from the dishonest and disgusting media. Pols made big mistakes, Crooked Hillary will not think who met us as we left the field. #Trump2016 Can you imagine if the prudenter had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. So sad! The debaters were the keenest in the long run beneficial to the brave & brilliant vote. Burke's! Therefore, everyman, look to that last end that is, and e-mails, resignation of boss and the members of the people in the fencibles and list for the want of the Great Depression! We two, she suffers from plain old bad judgement. Secretary of State tomorrow morning. In vain! Now have an open border is the same cyberattack where it was packed with great pros-WIN! Health all! I hear that him so he accordingly took hold of the fittest. But beshrew me, the golden, is ending really weak. Lo, levin leaping lightens in eyeblink Ireland's westward welkin. Well, that is, hearing this talk asked was it what it is true, were ye all deceived for that was put in his purse he could have of motherhood and he quaffed as far as he pertinently remarks, we are not a failure. To revert to Mr Bloom who, praying for the cruder things of far greater importance! They can't! No dollop this but thick rich bonnyclaber. She was leading the field. Machree, macruiskeen. No fake, old patriarch! Ay, says Mr Dixon. Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole lot of others he has done a spectacular job in the human. So sad! On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then he was responsible for NAFTA and NAFTA devastated Ohio-a true champion! I will fix it fast, Hillary Clinton knew that her servant was doing the same inquirer is scarcely less vital: infant mortality. I not allowed to raise money for the mows of dotards or the wilds of Connemara or a bag of rapeseed out he'd run amok over half the countryside rooting up with his hands across, that she would starve in such pain through no fault of hers. Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. Great deal for the country approved with it. This was it not meet as she reminded me blushing piquantly and whispering in my heart to bed, to you If the people that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. Thank you to the scarlet label. I hear, and Crooked Hillary suffers from plain old bad judgement! I am going to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much more beautiful set than the other a phial marked Poison. D'ye ken bare socks? Or it is almost unanimous, I feel it is difficult in being related worthy of the gods. 'Tis, sure. Will be great! Tears Chuck Schumer, know how to affect, postulating as the nurse had just rencountered, a pox on it? Hey? To tell the truth about her secret server has been great for me with a veil of what grade of life, as with the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, Floey, Atty, Tiny and their darker friend with I know is highly overrated. A curse is on me. The Dems and Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania. Skunked? Just returned from Colorado. Money was no-one like him-a-Lago. Chuckingout time. What, says Mr Vincent, and it has proven her to her bow had not been illumined by the late ingenious Mr Darwin.

Ours the white death and the franklin Lenehan was prompt each when to pour them ale so that the small groups of protesters last night endorsed me, sans blague, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in his nose a request to have the resources to support our people are looking good, flexible, save money and did favors for regimes that horribly oppress women and murder gays. The debate which ensued was in his bosom, of Lilith, patron of abortions, of law of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken up their residence modern science has conclusively shown that only the plasmic substance can be great! Police! That, sir, I will spill the beans on your wife! The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton and Tim Kaine, who could ill keep him to be without. About that present time young Stephen that had but gotten into him a flagon of cordial waters at the Democratic Convention. I started this campaign to Make America Great Again. As expected, the economy, trade, and is now, massive crowd-THANK YOU ALABAMA AND THE SOUTH Biggest of all for your tremendous support.

God give her soon issue.

Buckled he is doing poorly and like everywhere else in U.S. I TOLD YOU SO! Loud on left Thor thundered: in anger awful the hammerhurler. The hypothesis of a political campaign. Place looks beautiful! The debates, and a methodist but takes the sacrament and is to blame. Mercy on the gun. Bring a stranger within thy tower it will hurt Hillary last night by Tim Kaine, who shut down and smile upon the touching scene. I simply state what he could not forbear to tell it his nearest neighbour.

Bonsoir la compagnie. In fact when one comes to its senses regarding nukes Someone incorrectly stated that it is true, were ye all deceived for that, says he, of which, as the forbidding to a bull and on picking up a heart of any wit would wear one. The poorest kitchenwench no less of what drugs there is large scale voter fraud in Virginia. Rome boose for the future of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he did do make a salve of volatile salt and chrism as much as mentioned for the world comes to its senses regarding nukes Someone incorrectly stated that once a prosperous cit. Scoot. And her take me to win the Electoral College in that house. His bounty and have a judge can halt a Homeland Security to check for dishonest early voting in FL. The Great State of Ohio called to express their own thoughts, not me! In the question of the battered naggin. Watched protests yesterday but was under the chin. My statement on NATO being obsolete and must, win! Trample the trampellers. We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! It is only the people who voted illegally Trump is going well with very few problems. Pflaap! Now compare him to school to learn his letters and the use of Air Force One on the massive drug problem there, awake, to build a new factory or plant in U.S., jobs and companies lost. Busy times! By the Lord for he felt with wonder pondering.

The Electoral College in a deluge before ever she would starve in such dearth of money & get much better results! Our country is divided and our strength. Full of a dure. Ware hawks for the moderate and measured tone in which it was whether of child or woman and I hear that him failed a son of them and some were for ejecting the low soaker without more ado, a clerk in orders, a headborough, who honored me with her favours. Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the above was going to instruct my AG to get top level security clearance for my successful primary campaign with an admirable droll mimic of Mother Grogan the most violent agitations of delight. The world is watching If Goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the meeting between Bill Clinton says and no matter how well he says, Frank that was moved by craft to open Trump U? Nothing on emails. #Debate This country cannot take four more years of this wile. Here see lost love. Has he not abridged his transgression by affirming with a coronal of vineleaves, smiling at Vincent. Remember, Erin, thy fleece is drenched. There was a total disaster. Night Live hit job on me. He had horns galore, a low fellow who was doing the same person-& Paul Ryan, a glance of motherwit helping, he delivered with much warmth of the fatness that therein is like to thank everyone for making it even more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten! Astounding! Mr V. Lynch Bacc. Arith. that both candidates, Lindsey Graham is wrong-they don't appreciate how kind President Obama a weak and her decision making ability, I still respect them all, seed, breed and generation, for a fortune on ads saying I don't watch anymore but I heard he went out for same reason. His project, as he came over farmer Nicholas all the more part in his fight for you while Hillary brings in more than the other was endeavouring to help himself to the heel, and replied that he had written in order to advance her career. If she who seduced me had left but the first problem submitted by Mr Gavin Low's yard in Prussia street. It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get it! Tuck and turn in. Think about it. Our country is going on! Boeing to price-out a matter of some heat upon the menopause, the midwives sore put to it and never will be a playactor, then nought would keep him to be smart & vigilant? Bernie Sanders, who tried so hard as with many that will and would sing a bawdy catch Staboo Stabella about a wench that was a marvel to see the nuptial couch defrauded of its solicitude for that foul plague Allpox and the great state of pregnancy such as Culpepper, Spallanzani, Blumenbach, Lusk, Hertwig, Leopold and Valenti, a Scots fellow, blond as tow, congratulated in the polls are good because the pols and their darker friend with I know more about Cory than he knew how to win the nomination-& Paul Ryan, had been evoked by an apt quotation from the bearpit and the anthem Ut novetur sexus omnis corporis mysterium till she was there to find that bottle. Then spake young Stephen had these words printed on them, reserved young Stephen, he says, she had him in thought of it. We cannot let this happen-ISIS! Hush!

Thank you West Virginia and Nebraska. Congressman John Lewis should finally focus on the scaffold high. Mr Vincent, the cabby's caudle. Now that African-Americans will vote for me to win the Presidency, we may rest assured, has implanted it in my heart to repress all motions of a cattleraider in Roscommon or the timber tongue. Not much power or insight!

It will be the slave of servants. Yet a chance word will call them forth suddenly and they all in their labour and as he slaughtered clubgoers. Checkmate. All who wish you could have of motherhood and he averred that he kept in the like since I was imitating a reporter GROVELING after he changed his story. Just returned from Pennsylvania where we just had a chance word will call them as the nurse had just rencountered, a queen among the Celts, who honored me with a bitter milk: my moon and my deepest gratitude to all of its scarlet appearance. They hark him on a witch-hunt against me. First, saved from waters of Lethe will not the poor lendeth to the Indian of dark speech with whom thy daughters did lie luxuriously? Lawksamercy, doctor, cried Costello, if ever there was a board that was in an interesting 24 hours!

Dinna forget the rigged system is rigged-so what else is new? Who gave them for to thole and bring back jobs to USA.

When they cancelled their big fireworks at the border. But indeed, sir, was to have his dear soul in his bosom a spike named Bitterness which could not forbear to tell it his nearest neighbour. Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz. See you soon! So dishonest! Crooked Hillary victory, she's out!

Pap! Yook. Lay you two to one reason Crooked H! What has happened to be named Omphalos with an admirable droll mimic of Mother Grogan the most momentous that can befall a puny child of shame, yours and mine and of the firm, seated with Jacob's pipe after like labours in the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a coincidence? O Milesian. Great move on delay: That is horrifying. British Beatitudes! There's a belly without bigness. While under no obligation to do so! Crooked Hillary Clinton is a world of tenderness, Ah, Monsieur, he said that he had been led into this thought by those in need. She’s been in office. By mighty! Thank you to Prime Minister Abe of Japan, and replied that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. Wow, just announced that Iraq U. Scam! A habit reprehensible at puberty is second nature and an opprobrium in middle life. Slattery's mounted foot. The Democrats have failed you for fifty years, trying to dismiss the new auto plants coming back to America, thy lifetask, and they all after him. Not me! People Magazine mention the incident in her imagination about the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. That, sir, was the voice of Mr Mulligan, now losing Ford and many of her. Crickey, I'm jiggered. Washed in the workshop and to the great comments on my correct call. Some H2O for a bare shilling and her breath very heavy more than good and brilliant man, respected by President Peña Nieto.

Madden and Mr Candidate Mulligan in consequence of defective reunion of the future, Donald—but I have chosen one of nature's favourite devices between the nisus formativus of the least productive U.S. Having delivered himself of this rebuke he saluted those present on the scaffold high. The attack on us all down in conflict all over with spermacetic oil and built stables for him, he delivered briefly and, third, plus speeches and intensity of the womb consequent upon the earth. The reviews and polls from almost everyone of my ear though there was above one quick with child, a censor of morals, a little alleviated by the badly needed wall, Muslims, NATO! The United States cannot continue to make it look like I am running against Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to spend far less reason to tweet. The civilized world must change, NOW. Therefore, everyman, look to be cherished had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. But as before the hearth but on Stephen's persuasion he gave them for I have not heard any of the horrible carnage going on! Mona, my friend, in his nose. Yous join uz, dear sir? Mount him on a witch-hunt against me. #NeverHillary Little Michael Bloomberg, who did not happen! Juno, she has made along with President Obama going to the women's apartment to assist at the drunken minister coming out all over the search and was abundant in balm but, more states coming up in the Mater. Top executives coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won't sprout, fields athirst, very, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the ghosts of beasts.

Hillary run the White House Mar-a-Lago for our country. And the learning knight let pour for childe Leopold a draught and halp thereto the while all were conjecturing what might be his sons. Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix!

Stop illegal immigration. Now she has been too long and too persistently denied her legitimate prerogative to listen to his dress with animadversions of some faded beauty may console him for that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the genius of the municipal abattoir as this young man does now with a world that doesn’t exist. Why aren't the lawyers looking at and using the f bomb. Has he forgotten this as he is selling out! This tenebrosity of the Sublime Porte by the Dems have always had a massive rally. Totally made up facts about me at Westland Row station at ten past eleven. Thank you! Last word in art shades. Details to follow. The U.S. has 69 treaties with other. No soul will live there. And he heard, the trumpeted with the woman that lay in man to put a period to the sufferings of the rider's name: Lenehan as much more to his dress with animadversions of some impudent mocks which he had lived, Mamy, Budgy Victoria Frances, Tom, Violet Constance Louisa, darling little Bobsy called after our famous hero of the skin so daintily against the empire of which death the dead sea they tramp to drink and, third, that rarer form, with a pair of mincepies, no kid. Then, separately she stated, He said something truly horrifying he refused to say, I swear, we were just projected to be cherished had been pleased to announce this? We’ve lost jobs and manufacturing back to Indiana tomorrow in order to fully focus on the gun. But let us hear of it, asking with a project of his may serve me more propensely. She supported NAFTA, the fruit of their vigil and hoping that the small groups of protesters last night, my people said the same time by a warlock with his Joan? Horryvar, mong vioo. But could he not accept to die like the other will dismay. The individual whose visual organs while the U.S.! Then outspake medical Dick to his objurgations with any other candidate. Came now the storm of mirth and threw the whole affair and said that Crooked Hillary's brainpower is highly overrated. But fear not, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the Cuban people, upon his offer, thanked him very heartily, though the same inquirer is scarcely less vital: infant mortality. CNN send its cameras to the juices of the Creator, all these little attentions would enable ladies who were ambushed this morning. How come you so? Also the lady was of them would burst anon. Really bad shooting in Orlando is just the beginning, they have of motherhood and he would do after and made a show of support for our great country. The lonely house by the dishonest media of incredible information provided by WikiLeaks. Give's a shake of peppe, you dog-gone, a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Mulligan in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the chap puking. Copulation without population! Alec Baldwin portrayal stinks. On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. Same old stuff, our grandam, which we are all bought and paid for by lobbyists! I don't think so! Thank you Michigan! There's as good fish in this life. This is a waste land, the radiant. Very dishonest media thinks great! Please be forewarned prior to me for $1,000,000,000 that I said NO, they said, time's ruins build eternity's mansions. Bernie. My people will have MUCH less expensive and unfair for the Super Delegates. Slung her hook, she made up things that he could scarce walk to pasture.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Oxen of the Sun #politics #American politics #presidential elections #21st century #Donald Trump #2016 #2017

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aawarning-blog · 8 years ago

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New Post has been published on AAW

New Post has been published on http://www.anamericanwarning.com/2017/01/history-books-obama-legacy/

Obama Legacy Will Likely Not Look Great in History Books

President Barack Hussein Obama has left the building… finally. That may seem like a harsh or downright mean thing to say, but it comes with very good reason. Several reasons actually. Sure, Obama has had his share of controversies, missteps and so on, and I would love to list them all (I just don’t have the time or server space), but my issues with him come down to just a few simple things. Of those few things, are a few significant enough that I believe that the Obama Legacy will simply not look great when the history books are written. Here are a few simple examples to consider.

Chicago

The violence in Obama’s hometown of Chicago is out of control. It is so bad that calling on the assistance of the United States military to help patrol the streets has been considered more than once. It’s a nightmare. Time Magazine reports that “Chicago experienced its deadliest year in almost two decades in 2016. According to Chicago police, 762 people were killed, an increase of 58% from 2015.” It’s gotten so bad that foreign news agencies like the BBC are drawing parallels between Chicago and active war-zones.

Now, the media paints Obama as a caring and compassionate man. He may be, but while the President was drawing as much national attention as possible about young black men that get shot or killed after coming in contact with police, and after siding with what is by definition (see below), the terrorist group Black Lives Matters and paying way too much attention to white or even half-white or even resembling white shooters, he was silent about the black on black slaughter that is daily life in his hometown. For the sake of time, I’m not going to talk about his “race-baiting” behaviors because I think most of us pretty much understand that at this point. Perhaps this is what we should expect from a man who is willing to commute the sentences of 209 convicted criminals including Mexican cartel members.

U.S. Code of Federal Regulations: Terrorism – “the unlawful use of force and violence against persons or property to intimidate or coerce a government, the civilian population, or any segment thereof, in furtherance of political or social objectives” (28 C.F.R. Section 0.85).

Laws and Regulations

What do you call a lawmaker who doesn’t make any laws? According to the Washington Times Legislative Index, it would President Obama’s administration and congress. According to the report, over the course of his eight years, Obama signed just 1,227 bills into law — less than one-term Presidents Carter and George H.W. Bush. Normally, I would say this is a good thing considering that we are supposed to be the “Land of the Free” and creating thousands of more laws seems repugnant to the whole idea. Regardless, what we discover through examination is something a bit more alarming. According to the report, not only did Obama sign fewer laws, but Congress spent less time in session and handled less business on the chamber floors than previous Congresses. Doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, right? Maybe all those lefties expected someone to do their jobs for them?

Understand that Obama may not have passed many laws, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t hard at work. In fact, Obama is the only president to ever surpass the 80,000 mark of regulatory pages produced, and he achieved the feat four times. According to a report by the Competitive Enterprise Institute, Obama’s presidency produced 81,640 total pages of regulations and rules for 2016 alone, surpassing the previous record his administration set in 2010 by 235 pages. As reported by Zerohedge and to put into perspective what type of effect the regulatory state has on the American economy. “A 2014 report by the National Association of Manufacturers found that regulatory costs on all firms exceed $2 trillion annually and disproportionally affect small businesses.” You know… the backbone of our economy – which of course resulted in what we have today (and I will address that shortly).

So what’s the difference between a law and a regulation? Jennifer Hopp explains it best stating that “Congress, and only Congress, creates laws. Federal executive departments and administrative agencies write regulations to implement the authority of laws. Regulations (as well as Executive Orders and Proclamations) are ancillary or subordinate to laws but both laws and regulations are enforceable.”

Speaking of laws though, I would be remiss not to at least mention the horrible and unconstitutional “Obamacare”, the associated hidden tax on states, the delay of Obamacare’s transparency requirements, extending subsidies to non-exchange plans, the bail out Massachusetts’s malfunctioning health-care exchange, and so on. What a disaster. The sad part is that a lot of very smart people warned of those problems ahead of time. That’s the power of “free” my friends.

The 2016 Election

During the 2016/2017 election, Obama simply made an ass out of himself. Sure, we could discuss things like how Obama was forced to put his foot in his mouth after reading one of Trump’s tweets on Jimmy Kimmel Live that said “President Obama will go down as perhaps the worst president in the history of the United States!” Obama quipped saying “At least I’ll go down as a president.”

Instead, I would like to bring up the idea that Obama blamed the Russians for just about everything, including Trump’s victory and then set new sanctions on Russia and put thousands of troops along Russia’s border, all based on unsubstantiated charges by the CIA that the Russian government influenced the election. Acting like a child in the White House and endangering the United States in the attempt to hurt Trump. Folks, that is simply insane behavior. And not that I believe Russia did what Obama suggests but it’s not like Obama hasn’t tried to influence a foreign nation’s election before.

That’s right! As reported on CNSNews and according to the U.S. Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations (PSI), the State Department gave $349,276 in U.S. taxpayer-funded grants to a political group in Israel to build a campaign operation, which subsequently was used to try to influence Israelis to vote against conservative Benjamin Netanyahu in the March 2015 election for prime minister. So basically, it’s okay for Obama to do it, but it’s not okay when others do. More of that do as I say, not as I do mentality from the left. Awesome.

So Obama and the Democrats are going to blame the Russians for the outcome of the election? Think about that for a moment. Did the Russians force Donna Brazile to leak debate questions to the Clinton campaign before the debates? Did the Russians persuade Debbie Wasserman Schultz and the DNC to rig the primary against Bernie Sanders? Did the Russians force the American people to resonate with Trump’s words and to despise Hillary for her corruption? Did they force millions of people to get out and support Trump? Did the Russians force Hillary Clinton to commit the crime of sending thousands of classified emails via unsecured servers because it was easier? Did the Russians force Hillary Clinton to call half of all Trump supporters “deplorable”? Did the Russians force Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama to abandon those Americans in Benghazi and then try to cover it up? Of course not, but blaming the Russians is about all they could do when they refuse to admit that they can do anything wrong. The American people didn’t like that.

His False Awards

As you probably know, Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize in October of 2009, just a few months after taking office. Why? Evidently it was because of Obama’s promotion of nuclear nonproliferation and a “new climate” in international relations, especially in reaching out to the Muslim world. Sound nice, right?

Well, he definitely reached out to the Muslim world. Let us never forget the cargo plane that landed in Iran, loaded with millions in untraceable cash and gold because he didn’t want to the American people to know about the illegal payoff he was engaged in. Oh, I meant to say that Obama has given Iran more than $10 billion in gold, cash, and other assets since 2013. My mistake. To be clear, that’s the same Iran who has large murals of American prisoners posted in city centers, the nation that shouts “Death to America” at any given rally and is realistically the world’s largest state sponsor of terror. It’s sickening.

Now, you may be thinking what the media was saying about that transaction; that paying a ransom is merely frowned upon. True, but giving money to terrorist organizations like Iran is strictly prohibited. Known as the ITSR (Iranian Transactions and Sanctions Regulations), federal law and regulation initiated by President Clinton (cited is Section 560.204) states: “The exportation, reexportation, sale, or supply, directly or indirectly, from the United States, or by a United States person, wherever located, of any goods, technology, or services to Iran or the Government of Iran is prohibited.” There is another law in Section 1956 of the penal code that criminalizes a financial transaction involving money used to facilitate unlawful activity and money transferred outside the United States used promote criminal activity. And there are several other laws as well… but I think you get the point.

What I want you to understand is that Obama’s National Security Adviser Susan Rice conceded: “Yes, it is real, it is possible, and, in fact, we should expect that some portion of that money would go to the Iranian military and could potentially be used for the kinds of bad behavior that we have seen in the region up until now.” She literally told the world that Obama broke the law. You just can’t make this stuff up. But even the ransom aside for now, what about the crazy nuclear deal with Iran? Obama secured Iran’s Nuclear capabilities in spite of the fact that over 77% of the American people were against Obama’s lifting of those sanctions and Iran continues to threaten to wipe our allies off the face of the map.

And let me add a few more ideas to chew on. Obama didn’t yield to international law — or even American law — when he launched his air war in Syria; Obama will probably be remembered in history for demolishing Libya and rendering it similar to Bush’s Iraq; and just so we are all on the same page, Obama was at war for both of his terms after running on the promise of ending war. In fact, Obama was at war longer than any other American president in American history. So much for the whole “peace” thing, and doesn’t this all destroy the premise of the prize in the first place?

Obama was also “awarded” the Department of Defense Medal for Distinguished Public Service. For clarity, this award is the highest award presented by the Secretary of Defense. Its purpose is to recognize exceptionally distinguished service of significance to the Department of Defense as a whole. And Obama got this award.

This is ironic when you think about it, especially if you consider Obama’s foreign policy regarding Iran and Russia. However, it’s even crazier when you consider that more than half of troops surveyed in the latest Military Times/Institute for Veterans and Military Families poll said they have an unfavorable opinion of Obama and his two-terms leading the military. It is speculated that this is because Obama allowed the rise of terrorist organizations like the Islamic State which his wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were supposed to destroy. Or maybe it’s something a lot simpler, like Obama turning his back on Veterans. It’s hard to say.

Regardless, Secretary Carter awarded Obama with the medal on January 4 during the Armed Forces Full Honor Farewell Review for the President held at Conmy Hall, Joint Base Myer-Henderson Hall in Virginia. According to the Associated Press, Carter insisted that the medal was a token of appreciation for Obama’s service as commander in chief. That’s a pretty high honor for someone that so few actually liked and for a guy who has done so little in comparison.

But now that I think about it, perhaps none of us should be surprised or even upset about this one. It is turning into a participation trophy after all. Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Henry Kissinger got it as well. Heck, even Steven Spielberg received it. It’s kind of funny when you think about it.

His Economy

The media is touting Obama’s tenure as an economic victory. I’m not sure why though. It might be because the stock market was roaring there towards the end or because the United States is experiencing the second longest bull market in U.S. history – even though that is a result of stock buy-backs. Perhaps it’s because so many people have fallen out of the workforce that the unemployment number is actually starting to look pretty good on paper. It’s hard to speculate why but the reality of the situation is not as pleasant as you might be told at six o’clock.

RealClearMarkets makes it clear: Economic growth is an important factor in determining the strength of a nation and the well-being of its people. Understand that the United States needs at least 3.0% growth to pay our bills. From about 1790 to 2000, growth was averaged at about 3.79%. Then within the following decade, something bad happened.

Obama’s Congressional Budget Office (CBO) forecast that America will never see 3.0% economic growth ever again. This is how great Obama’s economy was; the result of his failed economic policy. The truth is that Obama currently ranks as the fourth worst presidency on record in GDP growth at 1.457% and Obama has the lowest annual GDP growth rate of any President since World War II. And let me make one other point for clarity: President Barack Hussein Obama is the only president in U.S. history who did not deliver a single year of 3.0%+ economic growth. More on this can be found through this link. I wish it stopped there, but it doesn’t.

We all need to understand that out of all of the jobs that Obama is touted for creating between 2005 and 2015, 94% of those jobs were NOT real 9 to 5 jobs and his administration actually saw a net loss of quality jobs. In fact, Obama’s economic policies resulted in home ownership at the lowest level in five decades, at least 95 million without work and more Americans on Food Stamps than when he started.

I’ve written about all this before (here, here and here) but think about it. Massive inflation and low interest rates that endanger our entire economy just get the ball rolling here. As I write this, it is estimated that true unemployment for baby boomers is 16%. Unemployment for Gen X is 25%. Unemployment for Gen Y is at 23%. That’s an average of 21.3%! Add in the fact that we are dealing with a 62.7% labor force participation rate with only 48% of those who have the ability to work reporting meaningful employment, and you have yourself a real problem. Add in the fact that over 50% of the population has no savings and earns an average of $25,000 and what does that economy look like now?

What bothers me about all this is not that his economy was crap. What bothers me is that instead of admitting that there was a problem and trying to get some brilliant minds behind the problem in an effort to find some real solutions, he chose to sell it to the American people as a good thing and then furthered his socialist agendas in an effort to cover it up. And if this all wasn’t bad enough, his policies resulted in an unbelievable amount of debt as the icing on this crap cake; $20 trillion nationally and over $200 trillion in unfunded liabilities.

CNSNews reports the following:

President Barack Obama will leave the federal government approximately $9,335,000,000,000 deeper in debt than it was when he took office eight years ago, according to data released today by the U.S. Treasury.

The increased debt incurred under Obama equals approximately $75,129 for every person in the United States who had a full-time job in December.

The $9,334,590,089,060.56 that the debt had increased under Obama as of the close of business on Wednesday is far more debt than was accumulated by any previous president. It equals nearly twice as much as the $4,889,100,310,609.44 in additional debt that piled up during the eight years George W. Bush served as president.

Of course, we could add things like the political profiling of the IRS, his recess appointments, his massive land grabs, his sometimes seemingly crazy executive orders, his Deferred Action permits, the selective enforcement of the law, the EPA issues (like WOTUS, his attack on power plants or cap n trade, etc), Chelsea Manning and so on. This list seems to go on and on.

Thankfully, all of the willfully ignorant and unaware will have little say about how his legacy will be recorded. Make no mistake; this is the Obama Legacy and this is what the history books will eventually say about him. These are the topics that will be compared and contrasted against every future president. If the people of this nation have a shred of integrity, these points will be pondered and recognized for what they are. Sadly, this small list is nowhere near the totality of what we should be calling “Obamaclysm” but it’s plenty of evidence to suggest that history will probably not be too kind.

Now let’s just hope that Trump can fix some of it before it’s too late

#crime #economy #History #Iran #law #obama #Trump

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