@giveashitnature I built one just because I had so much cleanup last fall. Didn't realize I was doing nature and myself a favor. Kept thinking I needed to get it cleaned up. Not anymore. Welcome wildlife. Come to my yard!
Why does everything feel like theater?
We have a Congress that won't pass something 83% people want.
We have a judicial system that doesn’t hold criminals accountable.
We have an education system that doesn’t educate.
We have a non-profit system that profits from our tax dollars.
We have a health care industry that profits from you staying sick.
We have a financial industry that needs you to stay in debt.
We have an insurance industry that fights every single claim.
It just all feels so fake, so theatrical.
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.
@physicsgeek Agreed! And if I go to the website I might see pictures and get an idea of what the place is like. They might even show some pictures of their best dishes. Apps tend to push you into their little mechanized order system.
@ZannSuz@patgill69033215 Oh fer.... You must be kidding! Maybe he's out checking on his cattle, counting heads, fixin' fence. Getting ready to ride then buckin' broncs!
With everything we are hearing right now about ticks this seems like good information to share.
“Here’s what I’ve learned after more ticks than I care to count.
First, whatever your uncle told you, forget it. No matches. No nail polish. No Vaseline. No soap on a cotton ball. All of those do the same terrible thing, they stress the tick out, and a stressed tick empties its gut back into the bite before letting go. Which, if you think about what that actually means for a second, is literally how Lyme and the rest get transmitted so you’re not speeding up its exit. You’re making it throw up into you.
Fine-tipped tweezers. Grip right where the mouthparts enter the skin, not the body, the head. Pull straight up, steady, no twisting, no jerking. It’ll feel like it’s resisting because it is, the mouthparts are barbed. Just keep the pressure on and it lets go in a few seconds. If a piece breaks off in the skin, leave it alone. Your body pushes splinters out. Digging around with a needle does more damage then the fragment ever would.
Clean it with alcohol or soap. Wash your hands.
Now here’s the part most people skip: don’t flush the tick.
Tape it to an index card. Clear packing tape right over the body, write the date and where on your body it was, and stick the card in a drawer. If you come down with anything weird in the next 30 days, rash, fever, joint pain, that flu-that-isn’t-flu feeling, that tick goes with you to the doctor. Some labs will test the tick itself, which is faster and often more reliable than waiting for antibodies to show up in your own blood. A dated tick taped to a card is one of the most useful things you can hand a doctor who’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.
The other thing worth saying out loud: if the tick was engorged when you pulled it, and you can’t swear it was off your body within 24 hours, call your doctor that same day. Don’t wait for a rash. Fewer than three out of four Lyme cases even produce the classic bullseye. A single preventive dose of doxycycline within 72 hours of a deer tick bite cuts the Lyme odds way down, and most docs in tick country will write that prescription without giving you a hard time, especially if you walk in with the tick taped to a card and a clear timeline.”
Since I’m going to be hearing this for the next 6 months as a Texas voter, let me answer the question:
“You would vote for an adulterer over James Talarico? That’s not very Christian.”
Here’s the truth: I would rather vote for almost anyone else who is going to at least advocate for conservative *policies* over a literal heretic who wears my faith like a skin suit, advocates for policies that harm children, endorses immorality and generally harm society.
Ken Paxton has personal baggage. I don’t deny that. But Talarico has plenty too — and he openly mocks God’s law and treats Jesus as a political mascot all while pushing a radical far-left agenda that would be a disaster for my state.
You see, I’m an adult. I do not expect those who are seeking political office to be my moral superiors or even trustworthy. They are tools to be used to do the least amount of damage via policy.
I wish more pastors and men who live godly lives were running. I really do. But the options we get are what they are.
Paxton supports secure borders, law enforcement, lower taxes, unleashing American energy, the Second Amendment, just to name a few.
Talarico supports unlimited abortion, trans-ing children, higher taxes, government-run “healthcare,” and is incredibly comfortable blaspheming the word of God.
I’m not voting for a priest. I’m voting for an imperfect person to represent my interests. That’s how it works.
You’re not going to guilt trip Texans into supporting a looney tunes candidate like Talarico. Paxton will win by 5+.
It’s about policy, not personality.
Classic! "If congressional salary is tied to military pay, congressional HOUSING should be tied to military housing. Bunk beds. Two to a room, minimum. Health and welfare inspections. Monthly. Unannounced. White gloves on the window sills, gentlemen."
So @SpeakerJohnson wants a RAISE.
Let me get this straight. Congressional salary has been "frozen since 2009," adjusted for inflation they're making 31% less than they were back then, and the SACRIFICE of coming to Washington is just too much to bear on $174,000 a year. I understand. That is genuinely heartbreaking. Somebody please call a telethon.
Meanwhile, I am a medically retired Army combat medic, supporting a family of six on a teacher's salary, and the government is still docking my retirement every single month because of the concurrent receipt offset that the Major Richard Star Act would fix. You know, H.R. 2102. The bill with 300-plus House co-sponsors. The one with the discharge petition H.Res. 1247 sitting there waiting for signatures. ZERO Republicans have signed it. Not one. But sure. Let's talk about YOUR salary.
The 119th Congress has been in session roughly 185-195 days out of 510 calendar days since January 2025. That is about 36-38% of the time. They have produced 93 laws. NINETY-THREE. No MRSA. No SAVE Act. No H.Res. 1247 signatures. But the sacrifice is ENORMOUS, and we simply must compensate accordingly.
Here is what I did not include in my Earned Stripes Act article -- and honestly, it was an oversight -- because I forgot about the BARRACKS. If congressional salary is tied to military pay, congressional HOUSING should be tied to military housing. Bunk beds. Two to a room, minimum. Health and welfare inspections. Monthly. Unannounced. White gloves on the window sills, gentlemen. And, naturally, Operation Golden Flow once a month at zero-dark-thirty because that is what we do to the people whose pay these folks keep voting on. You want to be called a public servant, you get the FULL package. Chow hall food included. No Uber Eats.
93 laws. 510 days. 54,000 combat-wounded veterans still getting their retirement stolen. Not a single Republican signature on H.Res. 1247.
Read the full article below. The EARNED STRIPES ACT proposes a solution that would clarify things considerably for everyone involved.
@MajorStarAct@StarActEnemies@JoJoFromJerz@catturd2@GuntherEagleman
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But what do I know -- I am only someone who worked 36 consecutive hours between paramedic shifts and college classes to earn the right to teach Physics, and apparently cannot do basic math well enough to figure out how 93 laws in 510 days justifies a raise.
#MAGA #Veterans #Trump
Dear Senator Hawley,
You have betrayed us……
We thought for sure you were going to help us drain the swamp and carry out the mandates we brought forth when electing Trump.
On Memorial Day 2026, while the rest of America paused to honor the fallen who died defending our freedoms, you chose to gavel in a meaningless pro forma Senate session and then gavel it right back out. A 30 second ritual that accomplished exactly nothing except one thing: deliberately blocking President Trump from making a single recess appointment.
You personally stood in the way of the American people’s mandate.
We voted. We won. We gave President Trump the White House, we gave Republicans the Senate, and we sent a clear message……drain the swamp, confirm the loyalists, and move at warp speed to repair what the last four years destroyed.
Instead, you and the rest of the Senate club decided the dusty old rulebook matters more than the will of the voters who handed you the majority.
By keeping the Senate “technically in session” through sham pro forma meetings, you stripped the President of a constitutional tool specifically designed to bypass obstruction like this.
Do you understand what that means, Senator?
It means qualified America First nominees, judges, ambassadors, agency heads, and military leaders remain stuck in limbo while the same entrenched bureaucrats who sabotaged Trump the first time continue holding power. It means the deep state gets more time to resist, delay, leak, obstruct, and laugh at the voters who believed change was finally coming.
It means Americans are once again being told their landslide victory was meaningless because the Senate has “traditions.”
You ran on fighting the swamp. You wrote books about it. You raised your fist outside the Capitol with the rest of us.
Now you’re the one holding the gavel that keeps the swamp alive.
We are not disappointed, Senator Hawley.
We are furious.
You didn’t have to take that presiding slot. You didn’t have to participate in the ritual protecting the establishment from the very change Americans demanded. But you did.
Every day those positions remain unfilled is another day the agenda Americans voted for is delayed.
This is not “procedure.”
This is betrayal dressed up in a suit and tie.
The swamp does not drain itself. It requires leaders willing to confront a broken system instead of protecting it under the banner of “tradition.” Right now, you are choosing the institution over the people who elected you.
We expected better from you.
We still want to believe you are not just another suit who talks tough on Fox News and then folds the moment Senate leadership whispers “tradition.”
Prove us wrong.
Demand these pro forma charades end immediately. Demand recess appointments be allowed so President Trump can govern at the speed this moment requires. Stand in that chamber and publicly call out the hypocrisy.
Because if you don’t, the answer to the question “What did Josh Hawley do on Memorial Day 2026?” will be simple:
He helped keep the swamp alive.
We’re watching.
We’re angry.
And we will remember.
Sincerely,
We the Disappointed, Disgusted, and Determined Trump Voters
The American Majority You Were Elected to Serve
Hey @BernieSanders -- I need your help.
Seriously. I have a student. Young man, just graduated, earned his welding certifications, 18 years old. Knows how to do real work, produce a real product, contribute something tangible to this country. Good kid.
His family kicked him out the day he graduated. Homeless. No safety net. Just his certs and whatever he could carry out the door.
Now, Senator, YOU are the guy I always hear talking about this. You have built your ENTIRE career on the idea that when someone has more than they need, and someone else has nothing, the people with excess have a moral obligation to help. Government redistribution. Take from those who have, give to those who are in need. You have said this for FORTY YEARS.
So I am coming to you. Sincerely. This kid needs a roof.
You own three houses, Senator. One in Burlington. One beachfront property in North Hero, Vermont. One in Washington, D.C.
He needs ONE.
You believe in this, right? This is literally the core of everything you preach. A skilled young man -- someone who will actually WORK, who actually PRODUCES something, unlike people whose career highlight is naming three post offices -- has nothing. And you have three properties sitting there.
So here is where I get a little confused, Senator.
See, I thought maybe you would just... hand him one. Lead by example. Be the change. But then I remembered you just spent $221,000 in a SINGLE QUARTER chartering a Bombardier Challenger 604 -- that is $15,000 AN HOUR -- to fly around the country on your "Fighting Oligarchy" tour. Because, as you so eloquently put it when asked about it: "You think I'm gonna be sitting on a waiting line at United?"
No apologies.
So let me make sure I have this right. The government should redistribute wealth to help people like my student -- but YOU personally, with three houses and a private jet habit, are too important to inconvenience yourself. Got it.
Quinn's Law Twenty-Five. Go look it up. I'll wait.
You are not a champion of the Proletariat, Senator. You are a SNOLLYGOSTER of the first order -- a cacafuego who has built a career selling a product he has never once used himself. A gascon. All promises, no precipitation. Cloud without rain for forty years running.
Socialism does not lift people out of poverty. It never has. What it DOES produce -- reliably, historically, every single time -- is people exactly like you. Three houses. Private jets. No apologies.
We call those people oligarchs, Senator. I believe you have used that word yourself. Recently. From a $15,000-an-hour airplane.
But what do I know -- I am only a science teacher whose student is sleeping on someone else's floor tonight while the self-appointed champion of the working class decides which of his three vacation homes to visit next.
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@JoJoFromJerz@GuntherEagleman@catturd2
#MAGA #Veterans #Trump