John Ware PT, DHSc

[InfantryDort @infantrydort]

June 6th, 1944.

The English Channel is angry and half the men in the landing craft are seasick. Diesel fumes mix with saltwater and vomit while rifles are checked for the fifth or sixth time by hands that need something to do. Nobody talks much anymore because the jokes have all been told and the bravado has finally burned away somewhere behind the English coast.

You are nineteen years old and carrying more weight than you’ve ever carried in your life. You don’t know it yet, but it’s the most weight you will EVER carry in this life. However long or short it may be.

Your rifle rests across your knees. Your life hangs from a few pounds of steel, wood, and training. Somewhere beyond the gray horizon sits a continent that has spent five years tearing itself apart, and in a few minutes you are going to step into the middle of it.

Across from you sits another kid. He can’t be much older than you. His jaw is clenched. His knuckles are white around his weapon. Neither of you says a word because there is nothing left to say.

Then your eyes drift toward his shoulder.

That red numeral catches your eye: “1”.

You’ve seen it a thousand times before. In barracks hallways, on training fields, in motor pools, and on long marches. It never meant much beyond belonging to the same outfit.

Now it means everything.

Because in a few minutes the world is going to ask something terrible of both of you, and there is comfort in knowing that whatever waits on that beach, neither of you will face it alone.

The historians will eventually reduce this day to arrows on maps and casualty figures. Politicians will give speeches. Journalists will write books. None of that exists inside the landing craft.

What exists is fear, and duty.

What exists is the understanding that courage was never the absence of fear. Courage was always charging into the maelstrom anyway.

The shoreline emerges through the smoke. You can see flashes now. You can hear the distant percussion of artillery. Men stop checking their equipment because there is no point anymore. Whatever mistakes were made are already made. Whatever prayers were going to be said have already been said.

The coxswain throttles down.

The boat grinds forward.

The ramp is about to drop.

Into the abyss.

Overlord.

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

I am [liberal wine mom] woman, hear me roar…with the incoherence of a screaming toddler in the cereal aisle of the grocery store.

[Ken Klippenstein @kenklippenstein]

Maine voter asked about Platner: "Probing into the minutiae of his personal relationships when you don't do that for any other candidate is ridiculous."

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

@Guidry_golf_fit The profession succumbed to credentialism to compensate for its failure to promote real value in healthcare. Meanwhile, PTs continue to shell $$ for dry needling and cupping courses. Arguably, the profession has regressed since advent of the DPT.

[Hamish Ferguson PhD @CoachFergie]

Oral carbohydrate sensing enhances prefrontal cortex oxygenation, reduces perceived exertion, and improves high-intensity cycling performance: A randomized crossover trial

https://t.co/1pRWY6y2N2

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

@BlueBoxDave I know Carville’s nuts and all, but is he saying that we need to elect a sexual deviant with Nazi sympathies in order to understand the consequences of “stupid wars”? This is some spectacularly tortured logic.

[Jason Locasale @LocasaleLab]

The issue is that mRNA vaccines and cancer was considered accepted science before the question was even asked.

Every medical school, medical organization, funding agency, and public health authority was telling people that certain effects were impossible. Researchers who wanted to investigate those possibilities couldn't get funding, couldn't publish, and even faced serious cancellations, mob attacks online and blacklisting.

I honestly do not know the extent to which mRNA vaccines cause any particular adverse effect. That is not the point.

The point is that rigorous studies to address the question were never allowed to proceed from a position of uncertainty. The acceptable conclusion had already been determined by the institutions responsible for investigating it.

[JD Vance @JDVance]

Henry Nowak died the same way a civilization dies: abandoned, handcuffed by authorities who neither trusted nor cared for him, and accused of hate crimes he did not commit. His murder is as tragic as it is enraging. He should still be alive today, and he would be if the last few generations of European elites had stood their ground against the politics of self-hatred and the mass invasion of migrants, many of whom despise the West and the people who love it.

Henry was far from the first to so needlessly lose his life, and I fear he won’t be the last. Each time a life like his is lost, the proper response—the only response—is righteous anger. One of the most important things the Trump administration has proven to the world is that stopping the flow of mass migration and defending national sovereignty is a matter of political will and leadership. Anything else is an excuse.

It is because we love the West that we want to preserve it. We love our civilization. We love our country. We love our children. And nobody—nobody—should ever die the way that Henry Nowak died. May God comfort those who loved him, and may God rest his soul.

[ZitoSalena @ZitoSalena]

82 years ago nearly all of the men on the first few boats that landed on the beach in Normandy were dead before days end.
Sit here with that for a while.
Look at them.
Really look at them.
Look into their eyes.
Many of them are boys, they are someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s sweetheart someone’s father.
They never came home.
And every privilege, every convenience, every freedom and every little thing that you want to bitch about you have because of them and they paid the ultimate price for you to have those freedoms. #dday #FreedomIsNeverFree

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

@mattswaim I’m a Cardinals fan, and I was a little embarrassed of that win last night. Francona’s got his work cut out with that bullpen.

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

@BlueBoxDave It took Democrats decades to build the ranks of liberal wine moms. I’ll bet this woman knows the full names of at least 3 of the women that accused Trump of rape, routinely quotes “you can grab them by the pussy”, and honors Christine Blasey Ford as her patron saint.

[Pete Hegseth @PeteHegseth]

June 6, 1944

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

@johnrabe But, man, can we talk about how bad the Reds were? Half our runs were little-league style. And I’m talking 1st year of player pitch little league. Lol Francona’s got his work cut out.

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

@johnrabe His whiffs are in a different area code from where the ball crosses the plate.

[Sage Steele @sagesteele]

Oh my.

[Holden @Holden114]

If Platner had an R next to his name each of his accusers would be booked on an evening news show.

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

This could make your day if you read it.

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

USA. A potluck. Everyone brings one dish. I have never been so out of my depth in my life.

I was invited to a gathering. "Just bring a dish to share," they said. Simple words. I did not sleep for three days.

Because I understood instantly what this was. A summit. Every guest, a lord of their own house, arriving bearing tribute. And tribute is judged. Tribute is ranked. To bring the wrong dish to the wrong table is to fall in standing before your peers, possibly forever.

So I prepared. I made my finest dish. I carried it to the door with two hands and a straight back, braced for the weighing of my worth.

The first lord arrived with a bowl of orange powder noodles. Macaroni and cheese. The crowd roared. He set it down at the center of the table. The CENTER. I noted this. The center is the seat of power.

The second lord brought a tower of small brown meat orbs in red sauce. "Meatballs," he announced, like a man laying down a sword. They were placed beside the macaroni. A strong showing. An alliance, perhaps.

I studied the table like a battlefield map. Potato salad: defensive, reliable, old money. A vegetable tray, untouched, clearly a hostage offering no one expected to win. And then a woman walked in, raised a flat box overhead, and the entire room turned and CHEERED.

Pizza. She had brought pizza. Store-bought. Still in the box.

I was stunned. She had not even cooked it. And yet the people rejoiced as if a king had entered. I revised my entire understanding of the hierarchy on the spot. Effort means nothing here. Only the roar of the crowd decides rank.

I placed my dish down, humbly, near the napkins. A peasant's position. I accepted it.

And then a man tapped my shoulder, pointed at my dish, and said the words that changed everything.

"Whoa, did you make this? This is amazing. Everybody, you GOTTA try this guy's thing."

The room turned. The room came. The room ATE. My dish vanished in ninety seconds. The pizza woman herself took a second helping and looked at me with respect.

I had won the summit. By accident. With a dish I placed by the napkins.

I understand nothing about this country. I have never been happier. I am hosting the next one.

So tell me, America.

Is there a system to the potluck? A secret rank? A hidden law?

I have decided there is not.

You just bring the thing you love, and everyone eats it, and somehow everybody wins.

It is the most insane way to hold a war.

I will fight in every single one.

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

@japan_nobunaga I got a little emotional reading this. ‘Murica.

[Clay Travis @ClayTravis]

Sports media is profoundly broken. This is the headline in @latimes for a boy winning multiple girls state titles.

[John Ware PT, DHSc @JohnWarePT]

@SharylAttkisson Sean Hannity’s radio show announcer-a professional speaker- says “new-q-luhr.” Drives me nuts.

[ZitoSalena @ZitoSalena]

Let's make this happen 🇺🇸❤️☺️