Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever

♦Fast and Furious ...Kind and Thoughtful♦
Inscrutable, I'm told, but that's alright
••••OVER THE🌈out on a limb••••

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

There is never a winner in an argument

[Wholesome Side of 𝕏 @itsme_urstruly]

This video will 100% improve your week!

The way the lamb and the duck are escorting him is adorable. 😂

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@MbarkCherguia 2

[Gandalv @Microinteracti1]

Robert Mueller died last night.

He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving.

He had integrity.

And tonight the President of the United States said good!

I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good.

I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word.

Good.

This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather.

That is what is happening. That is what has happened.

The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming.

America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner.

And the church said nothing.

Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary.

Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him.

Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart.

JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn.

These men are something more painful than monsters.

They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again.

Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing.

Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less.

That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him.

And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it.

When Trump is gone, they will still be here.

Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous.

That morning is coming.

Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say.

He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true.

He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad.

The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it.

That is all it needed to be.

A man died. His family is broken open with grief.

That is all it needed to be.

Instead the President said good.

And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸

Gandalv / @Microinteracti1

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@Mishi_2210 950

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@PathOfMen_ Took advice from a friend.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@_The_Prophet__ Great advice. It works.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@JoeNewberry I'm glad they caught it early and are giving you the care you need. Please post update on your release from the hospital and when you return to NC. Meanwhile, relax and take care of yourself.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@01010111000101O @Acyn Shot 3 KILLED 2

[01010111000101 @01010111000101O]

@Acyn Brought a gun, shot 3 people, got celebrated by the president.

[Shanaka Anslem Perera ⚡ @shanaka86]

THE NOBEL TRIBUTE

She won the Nobel Peace Prize for fighting tyranny.

Yesterday she gave the medal to the man who captured the tyrant.

He kept it.

She got a gift bag with his signature embossed in gold.

María Corina Machado walked into the White House hoping to become president of Venezuela.

She walked out carrying a red bag with “Donald J. Trump” in gold letters.

The White House confirmed hours later: Trump still believes she “doesn’t have the support or respect” to lead.

He prefers Delcy Rodríguez.

Maduro’s vice president.

The woman who served the dictator for a decade.

Twelve days ago, American special forces extracted Nicolás Maduro from his bed at 3am.

Today, Trump controls Venezuela’s oil. He completed a $500 million sale last week. The money sits in accounts in Qatar.

He declared himself “Acting President.”

When the New York Times asked what limits his global power, Trump answered:

“My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”

He added: “I don’t need international law.”

The Norwegian Nobel Committee issued a statement.

“The prize can neither be shared nor transferred.”

Trump kept the medal anyway.

It now sits in the White House.

Not won.

Taken.

Machado invoked history as she handed it over.

“Two hundred years ago, Lafayette gave Bolívar a medal with Washington’s face. Today the people of Bolívar give back to the heir of Washington.”

But there is a difference.

Lafayette gave that medal to Bolívar after he liberated South America.

Machado gave hers to Trump after he captured her country.

In the last ten days this president has:

Seized a foreign head of state.
Sold $500 million of that nation’s oil.
Demanded territory from a NATO ally.
Sent one British soldier and two Norwegians to “defend” Greenland.
Positioned strike assets toward Iran where 2,400 protesters lie dead.
Threatened the Insurrection Act against an American state.
Told the world international law does not apply to him.

And received a Nobel Peace Prize as tribute.

The old world operated on a premise:

Power requires legitimacy.
Legitimacy requires rules.
Rules require consent.

The new world operates differently.

Power creates legitimacy.
Rules follow force.
Consent is optional.

That is what María Corina Machado understood when she entered the Oval Office.

She did not come to share a prize.

She came to kneel.

And she received exactly what tribute earns in the new order:

A gift bag.

With his name on it.

In gold.

Look at Trump’s face in that photograph.

The smile.

Innocent.

Almost child-like.

Like someone who waited his whole life for this moment.

Not to win the prize.

To receive it as offering.

The Nobel Peace Prize now belongs to a man who says the only thing limiting his global power is his own mind.

The woman who earned it for fighting dictatorship left with a souvenir.

And somewhere in Caracas, Delcy Rodríguez is preparing for her call with Washington.

She served Maduro faithfully for ten years.

Now she serves someone else.

This is not about Venezuela.

This is about what comes next.

Greenland.
Panama.
Iran.
Canada.

The template is set.

Capture. Control. Accept tribute.

The Nobel Peace Prize was the proof of concept.

The rest is execution.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@SenSanders It is time for all of you to stop talking and take action.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@RepBeatty Not silenced now. Thank you for speaking up, speaking out.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@RepAprilDelaney Thank you.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@RepBeatty Thank you for speaking up.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@JoeNewberry I so get this. I often refer to my deceased mother as my friend. And she was, as you say, my truest friend. I haven't seen much of you on here lately, glad you're back on my timeline.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@VintageRockN_85 Nobody, No-no-nobody like her. Ever. So good!

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@SVG__Collection A masterpiece at the heart of a streak of them. Stevie, at his best, was brilliant!

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@EricLDaugh Unless and except when they are perpetrated by thugs and insurrectionists attempting to overthrow our government at the behest of an elected criminal.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@lisamurkowski You are unfit to represent the residents of Alaska or anywhere else. You will pay for your poor choices in 2026.

[Michael🔙🔜Meanswell cowboyForever @MMeanswell]

@DavidGMcGreevy I saw it too, it is one of my best B'way memories, loved it!