They captured Che Guevara alive. They could have put him on trial. Instead, he was executed in a Bolivian schoolhouse.
They assassinated him at only 39.
I walked up behind the blokes and put my hands on their broad shoulders.
“Boys!” I said exuberantly. “You read my mind. I was about to ask the same thing.”
Just got into a sports bar here in Poland.
As soon as I walked in the door, I saw a crowd of young alpha males enjoying some ice cold beers trying to get the bartenders attention.
They requested he change the TVs away from NFL pregame and to the RNC so they could watch President Trump and JD Vance’s highly-anticipated speeches in Dallas.
“Football can wait,” one of them said. “The future of the free world is far more important.”
I walked up behind the blokes and put my hands on their broad shoulders.
“Boys!” I said exuberantly. “You read my mind. I was about to ask the same thing.”
“Eh… I’m not sure we get that channel,” the bartender said, dismissively. “Can I get you a drink, though?”
My brow furrowed with irritation. I could feel the tension growing in the shoulders of the boys in front of me as they became frustrated with the bartender.
“Listen here, son,” I called out to the bartender, an unimpressive shaggy-haired blonde man named Stanislaw. “I would like a drink, but more importantly, I would like you to give me the respect I deserve.”
The boys faces turned from consternation to amusement, as I put my finger in Stanislaw’s chest and corrected him.
“That was not a casual request to be discarded simply because you don’t feel like searching for the remote,” I scolded. “You will change the channel to the RNC before we miss another speech. You will fetch me the coldest American beer you can find. And you will do both of those things… PRONTO.”
The other patrons had taken notice of the escalated masculinity in the bar and began to chant “R-N-C! R-N-C!” in support.
The bartender apologized and frantically began to search for the remote.
The eyes of the entire world are on this historic midterm RNC!