Happy Labor Day. I’ve been working since I was 8 years old. Not because I was ambitious. Because I was Italian. There was no “finding yourself” in my house. My father found me. Usually standing around doing nothing. You worked. You helped. You contributed. And if you were tired? Fantastic. You could be tired while you worked. Here’s to all the immigrants who came to this country with nothing but a work ethic, a dream, and absolutely no interest in hearing their kids complain. Happy Labor Day!
Mason Heintschel had a performance for the history books!
✅ His 7 TD passes tied a @Pitt_FB record.
✅ He's the first ACC QB since at least 1995 with 450+ passing yards and 7+ TDs.
What. A. Day.
Pitt's Mason Heintschel was 31/41 for 453 yards and 7 TD against Miami OH. He's the first QB to throw for at least 450 yards with 7+ TD and no interceptions since Joe Burrow at LSU in 2019.
Such an emotional moment a boy fresh out of surgery and still under anesthesia spoke of seeing Jesus, describing His eyes as fiery, just as the Bible says. He also saw his father in heaven, who passed away a year ago. 🥹
Bank of America vice president Erin Piacenti, 32, who was fatally stabbed in Times Square, had been educated at Villa Walsh Academy, a Catholic school in New Jersey. Just days before her tragic death, Erin had celebrated the baptism of her infant daughter.
I asked Pitt coach Pat Narduzzi about fourth downs today, and he brought up the infamous fourth-and-1 at Penn State in 2019 when Pitt kicked a FG.
"I'll live with that one for the rest of my life. I wish we still would have gone for it."
So it bugs him as much as it bugs you.
Four years ago, Danny Ellerd was down to 92 pounds, living under a bridge, consumed by a 15-year addiction.
Cops showed up to lock him up and realized he was literally on the verge of death.
He survived the hospital, checked into rehab, and put his head down.
Today? He graduated from OSU with straight A’s and a degree in tech.
The system can't save anyone who doesn't want it. The door to change is always there, but you have to walk through it yourself.
🔴 A 70-year-old man in Manitoba has been given a death sentence.
Stage 4 pancreatic cancer.
His oncologist looked him straight in the eye and said the words no one wants to hear: "You only have a few months left to live."
But he refused to accept it.
He started researching. Late into the night. He read testimonials. Watched videos. Found hope in the places the system overlooks.
In November 2025, he made a decision.
He began implementing his own treatment plan:
Supplement dosages
Ivermectin --1.5 mg/kg/day
Fenbendazole --1,500 mg/day
CBD oil --100 mg/day
No clinical trials. No doctor approval. Just research, belief, and an unwavering determination to never give up.
Results started to show.
The most important marker for pancreatic cancer, CA19-9, began to drop.
Not slowly. But steadily.
Seven months later, the numbers were undeniable. His body was responding to the treatment. The cancer was retreating.
Right here, things get hard to believe.
The oncology team—the very ones who told him to prepare to die—now demanded he stop this treatment.
Not because it was harming him. But because they couldn't explain why it was working.
Welcome to the Canadian healthcare system.
The same system... that offers MAID (Medical Assistance in Dying) as a solution...
...tells a man who's getting better to give up.
What a massive irony.
They'll offer you a dignified death.
But heaven forbid you try a cheap drug, repurposed for another use, and actually get better.
Reportedly, one oncologist told him: "Because we can't prove this works, we don't recommend it."
Yet the evidence was walking around right in front of them.
A 70-year-old man who should be dead—he's alive, improving, and fighting.
This is why we must share these stories.
Not to bash doctors. Nor to say "don't trust medicine."
But to say: the system is broken.
Oncologists don't want you to die. They're just trained to believe only in what the system approves.
And the system doesn't approve cheap, off-patent, repurposed drugs.
Because there's no profit in it.
Today, this man in Manitoba is still alive.
His tumor markers are dropping. His energy is returning. His family is full of gratitude.
And his oncologists are still scratching their heads.
This isn't about blame. It's about hope.
If you or a loved one are fighting cancer—do the research.
Ask questions.
Don't be afraid to try something different. Follow my account for more updates.
For anyone taking care of their elderly mom:
Remember, she never counted the times she woke up to soothe your cries, banish the monsters under your bed, and comforted you back to sleep.
Don’t count the times she needs you now.
Remember to hold her hand as she can only take small steps now, just like she held yours when you needed to be steadied.
Don’t get frustrated when she repeats herself, she spent all her life listening to your trials and tribulations and always knew how to comfort and celebrate you.
When her memory begins to fade, remember, she knew you first and has loved you the longest.
Remember, as her world gets smaller, don’t let her feel alone. For her entire life, you have always filled her world.
Don’t abandon her now.
It’s hard watching the one who gave you life, or the one who chose you, to slowly lose theirs.
It’s even harder for them to know their earthly journey is coming to an end.
Junior Bridgeman made about $2.95 million in his entire twelve year NBA career.
Never more than $350,000 in a single season.
He died worth $1.4 billion.
And the way he did it started with him working a drive-thru window while he was still an active player.
Here's the whole thing.
Bridgeman went 8th overall in the 1975 draft, then got traded to Milwaukee in the deal that sent Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to the Lakers.
He was never a star. He was a sixth man, one of the best in the league at it, long before there was an award for the job. Twelve seasons, 13.6 points a game, zero All-Star appearances.
Solid pro. Nothing that makes you rich.
So in the late 1970s, during the offseason, Bridgeman got a job at a Wendy's in Milwaukee.
Not as an owner. Not as an investor.
As a cashier. Working the window, taking orders, handling complaints, watching how the kitchen timed tickets during a lunch rush.
He didn't need the money.
He needed to know how the business actually worked.
Then in 1988, a few years after he retired, a woman walked up to the counter at a Wendy's in South Milwaukee and a tall man handed her a tray.
She recognized him as an NBA player.
Later that week she called a local radio station to complain about it. Bridgeman was driving to his downtown office when he heard her on the air saying it was a shame that a former NBA player had to work fast food.
He owned the restaurant. And several others in the city.
His first attempt at it had actually failed. He and teammate Paul Silas opened a Wendy's in Brooklyn together and it went under.
He started over in Milwaukee with a handful of locations and just kept buying.
At its peak his company owned more than 450 restaurants across the country. Wendy's, Chili's, Fazoli's, Golden Corral. At one point he was the second largest Wendy's franchisee in America.
In 2016 he sold most of it for a reported $250 million.
Then he did the thing that made him a billionaire.
He took that money and bought Coca-Cola bottling territory. Heartland Coca-Cola, covering Illinois, Kansas and Missouri, and later a stake in Coke's entire Canadian bottling operation.
Bottling is unglamorous, protected, and enormously profitable. Heartland grew toward a billion dollars in annual revenue.
In 2020 he bought Ebony and Jet magazines, two of the most important publications in Black American history, for a reported $14 million, after they'd gone through bankruptcy.
And in September 2024, Junior Bridgeman bought a 10 percent stake in the Milwaukee Bucks at a $4 billion valuation.
The team that traded for him in 1975. He went from a bench player on that roster to an owner of it.
In February 2025, Forbes put his net worth at $1.4 billion.
Only four men who ever played in the NBA have reached a billion dollars. Michael Jordan. Magic Johnson. LeBron James.
And Junior Bridgeman, who averaged 13.6 points a game.
He is the only one of the four who wasn't a superstar. The other three built on fame. He built on knowing how a kitchen runs.
On March 11, 2025, Bridgeman was in Louisville doing a television interview when he said he thought he was having a heart attack. He died at the hospital that day. He was 71.
The Bucks retired his number 2.
A sixth man who never made $350,000 in a season spent his summers learning to run a drive-thru window.
Fifty years later he owned a piece of the franchise.
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