I'm too spent to offer much of an update, but she's home. She's where she needs to be. There was one final twist, which I will tell you about later. It might be meaningful down the road and it is mingling my relief with a sense of disquiet. But she's home. Thank God.
Please Patriots—
I am currently in the hospital since May 26. Fighting a fight of my life against stage four brain and spinal turbo cancer. Covid induced ?
I’m young. I was super healthy. And now I’m struck down in bed in only 3 or 4 weeks. Dying…
Im a true patriot that has been fighting this fight since the golden escalator I want to see how this ends.
Please help me escalate this by reposting to the to try and get some help. 🧬🧬🧬
@DrOz@realDonaldTrump@RobertKennedyJr@RapidResponse47@Scavino47@MonicaCrowley@elonmusk@Jentezen@JesseBWatters@POTUS
USA. A baseball stadium. Fifty thousand people stood up in order, section by section, and nobody knows who gave the command.
I saw it coming from across the field. A ripple of bodies. Arms up, then down. Moving toward us like weather.
"What is that?" I asked the boy next to me.
"The wave. Stand up when it gets here."
"Who started it?"
"Nobody knows, man. Somebody."
Somebody. In my land, to move fifty thousand men you need a warlord, a banner, three years of campaigning, and excellent drums. Here, one bored stranger in section 134 raises his arms, and an army obeys.
I watched it approach. Section by section. Strangers who will never meet, rising for each other. The man with nachos rose, holding the nachos. The nachos rose too. Nothing was spilled. I do not know how.
It reached us. I rose. My arms went up before my honor could discuss it. I made a sound I have not made since childhood. I will not describe the sound.
Then it passed, and we sat, and it was someone else's duty now.
"Will it come back?" I asked the boy.
"If it's a good one."
It came back. Three times. Each lap weaker, like an old soldier, until somewhere in the outfield it died, and the whole stadium sighed together — fifty thousand people mourning a wave they had built themselves.
No one commands it. No one owns it. It asks, and you answer, and for six seconds you matter to a stranger in section 134.
A wave does not recruit. It arrives, and you were always a member.
I am told this also happens at football games.
I will be attending.
USA. A stadium parking lot. I came to watch a battle, and found the army feasting three hours before it.
Hundreds of tents. Grills. Clan flags flying from trucks. Men in war paint handing food to strangers. I assumed the game had been cancelled and this was the consolation.
"When does the battle begin?" I asked a man tending an enormous grill.
"Kickoff's at one. We've been here since seven."
Seven. In my land, an army eats quietly before war, in case it is the last meal. Here, the meal IS the war. The enemy parking lot is doing the same thing forty yards away. Nobody is fighting. Everyone is grilling.
A man handed me a plate. I had not asked. I was not known to him. The plate held more meat than my ancestors saw in a winter.
"You with us or them?" he asked.
"I am with whoever fed me," I said. It is the oldest law.
"Good answer," he said, and gave me more.
Then I learned the terrible truth. The man at the grill — the general of this feast — was not going inside.
"You will not watch the battle?"
"Nah. I'll catch it on the radio. Somebody's gotta watch the grill."
He marches to the war. He feeds the army. He does not enter. In eight hundred years of my family's records, there is no rank for this man.
There should be.
I was full. I was confused. I was, somehow, home.
An army that eats together has already won. The game is a detail.
When the crowd roared inside the stadium, the grill man nodded once, and flipped a burger.
Next week I am bringing my own tent. He said I could park beside him. We are allies now.
The terms were ribs.
The NIH started diagnosing and treating COVID injection injuries in March 2021. They quickly learned that early intervention and treatment were essential.
Yet they withheld publication of their study until July 2022 — and only under pressure from the injection-injured.
How many people were denied effective treatment because of the NIH/FDA cover-up?
My friend just created a website that tracks every single immigration NGO in the west with their funding $ numbers, phone number, names and addresses
https://t.co/0Z8VMrBsOM
If every American tried to buy just 1 ounce of Silver, the entire global supply would vanish overnight.
Now imagine if the world wanted one too.
👉 There is not enough #silver for everyone.
USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.
Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.
I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."
"They just come with the table, man."
They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.
This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.
I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.
"Did we…?"
"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."
Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.
My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."
Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.
Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.
This is absolutely insane.
The SpaceX, $SPCX, IPO officially began trading 15 minutes ago and there are already 160 MILLION shares traded.
That's ~$26 BILLION worth of shares traded in 15 minutes.
In other words, $1.7 billion worth of $SPCX is being traded PER MINUTE right now.
Absolutely incredible.
This is a scandal WAY bigger than Watergate.
@CNN, @MSNOWNews, @NBCNews, @ABC, @PBS — it's past time to cover this.
People died from the COVID shot because the government lied to them, yet the legacy media refuses to report on this story.
🚨🚨🚨THE DEATH OF PARENTAL RIGHTS: Colorado’s Corrupt Courts Just Legalized State-Sponsored Kidnapping🚨🚨🚨
This is EXACTLY what happens when Democrats appoint radical, activist judges to the bench! The Colorado Supreme Court just handed down a terrifying 5-2 ruling that completely destroys the rights of parents.
According to their new twisted logic, a judge can now slash a parent’s time with their child down to nearly ZERO—and it doesn’t even count as a "restriction"! Because it’s labeled a mere "modification," judges no longer have to prove the child is in actual danger to strip you of your custody.
Think about the terrifying weapon this gives the radical left. If a bureaucratic judge doesn't agree with your traditional values, your refusal to use forced pronouns, or your resistance to the chemical and surgical gender mutilation of your kids, they can essentially eliminate your visitation entirely. As long as they leave you with one single overnight a year, the court says "the math is mathing" and your rights haven't been restricted.
They are coming for your children, and they just legalized the framework to do it. Absolute disgrace.
#ParentalRights #Colorado #DefendTheFamily #ActivistJudges #SaveTheChildren
https://t.co/WhK5ctV6t4