Augustus Glooper

I love truth. I love life. Jesus is the way to both.

[Matt Van Swol @mattvanswol]

🚨WOW!!!

A 17-year-old who was just named HOMECOMING KING looked over and saw his friend with Down Syndrome who had been DREAMING of being homecoming kind for years...

...so he took off his crown, GAVE IT TO HIM, and led the ENTIRE SCHOOL in cheering for him!!! 😭

The two boys hugged right there in the middle of the gym. ❤️

You see, this took place at Mahanoy Area High School in Pennsylvania.

That year, yhere were only two nominees for homecoming king that year, Keni... and his friend, 17-year-old Axton Kuhl.

Axton has Down syndrome and Axton had been dreaming of homecoming for YEARS.

His mom says he talked about becoming king over and over.

But when all the votes were cast, they called called Keni’s name, not Axton.

But then, Keni looked over at Axton and knew just what he had to do.

He walked over, took off his crown and sash, and put them on his friend, then led the ENTIRE SCHOOL in cheering for him.

Axton broke down into tears.

But here’s the part you don't know...

Keni has a little brother with autism.

He says he did it because he’d want someone to show HIS brother that same kindness if it were ever him standing in that gym.

THIS IS THE AMERICA I KNOW!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

[Doug Keegan @doug_keegan]

Halftime poll!

Which A&M first down was your favorite?

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@TexAgs You lost me at best team in the county

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@GabeBock @GabeBock you are good dude. Elko is a good dude. I agree with you take in fact that he should have let him pass, but the quotes…come one man

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@Bookerwren1 @GabeBock It is a cesspool but weak response by coach

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@AlexHam3248 @JoshPateCFB You gonna post this in every Aggie feed?

[Matt Van Swol @mattvanswol]

I have just completed what I believe to be the most comprehensive evaluation of Charlotte NC arrest records in history.

This project has taken me 3 months to complete, combing through over 50,000+ arrest records and mugshots.

I've found what appears to be massive fraud.

Thousands of Hispanics have been labelled as "WHITE CAUCASIAN" in the arrest records... THOUSANDS.

In fact, I found over 500 cases where Hispanics who were arrested more than once... had their "Ethnicity" CHANGED from "Hispanic" to "Caucasian" from one arrest to another.

Horrifyingly, I found HUNDREDS of these "White Caucasians" were actually ILLEGAL ALIENS from foreign countries with ICE detainers.

Perhaps most disturbing...

Many of the illegal aliens who were labelled as "WHITE CAUCASIAN" had already been released back into the public, DESPITE the ICE detainer requesting they stay in prison.

We have a serious problem.

[Eric Daugherty @EricLDaugh]

🚨 BREAKING: In a MAJOR mask-off moment, Senate Democrats just REJECTED legislation that would've required photo voter ID and banned stock trading for members of Congress, 53-47

100% OF DEMOCRATS VOTED "NAY"

LET THAT SINK IN. Democrats just voted for VOTER FRAUD and INSIDER TRADING 🤯

Same bill passed the House. In the Senate, it needed 60 votes to advance — but couldn't get there because of Dems

These people do not want what's best for America. VOTE RED IN NOVEMBER 🇺🇸

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

I have never been addicted to anything.

I want that on the record before I tell you about H-E-B.

It started at the tortilla counter. A woman in a hairnet looked at me through the steam the way a lighthouse keeper looks at a ship that is clearly about to hit the rocks.

"You want one, mijo? Just came off."

She handed it over in wax paper. It was hot. Not warm. Hot like it had been alive four seconds ago and still had opinions.

I bit it.

Somewhere deep inside me, a small boy who had never been hugged enough sat down on the floor and began to weep.

"Good, huh?" she said, already wiping the counter, as if she had not just rearranged the architecture of my soul.

"...Are there butter ones," I whispered.

She didn't answer. She just smiled, slowly, like a woman who has watched ten thousand men walk up to this counter as strangers and leave as believers.

That was March.

I now know the tortilleria schedule better than my own mother's birthday. My freezer, which once held only ice and regret, now holds forty-eight tortillas. A man in the cereal aisle once leaned over and muttered, "Freeze half," and I nodded like we had been in a war together.

Yesterday she saw me coming from the bakery and had one waiting before I reached the counter.

"There he is."

I have never been addicted to anything.

I just go to H-E-B every day now, because somebody there is expecting me.

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@BudElliott3 EPA?

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@thisisfoster This is so encouraging man. Thank you for you vulnerability and humility.

[Michael Foster @thisisfoster]

The kids in a big family don’t all grow up with the same parents. Even when they share the same mom and dad. Time has a way of working on people. Parents aren’t exempt. By the time the youngest arrives, Mom and Dad are changed. Sometimes softer. Sometimes harder. Sometimes both. That can help or hurt. Usually it does a little of each.

Our kids came in waves. The first three were boys, born about two years apart. That was wave one. Then came Nicaea, our daughter. She died. Her death split the timeline. It created a silence between the children we had and the ones still to come.

Then, to our surprise, another girl. She began wave two. After her came Cedar. Then Cyprian. Last came the ones we call the “we thought we were done” wave, Cyrene and Foxe.

From our oldest to our youngest, nearly 18 years span the gap. Long enough for a family to become a living record. Each child carries a piece of who we were. And we carry the weight of who we’ve become because of them.

In the early years, we were wide-eyed and wound tight. We didn’t want to mess it up. Our kids got our time. But the fuel behind it wasn’t just love. It was fear. I’d play with them for hours, then lie in bed convinced I hadn’t done enough.

One of our bigger regrets is how often we spanked. That’s how we were taught. It wasn’t the only tool we used, but it was the one always within reach. And while I see strength and loyalty in our older children, I also see a tension in them. A need to control things. A current of anxiety. I can’t pretend it isn’t connected to how often we reached for the rod.

I’ve had to tell them, more than once, when they asked why the younger kids don’t get spanked as much. I had to say it plain. We spanked you too much. Please forgive us.

Still, a lot went right. They ran wild in creeks, threw balls in open fields, listened to bedtime stories almost every night. They were raised in the church. They learned the Bible and the catechism. And they had a dad who somehow kept going on five hours of sleep. I was strong then. And stubborn. And driven. But we were young and scared. That fear shaped more than we saw at the time.

The world splits history into B.C. and A.D.
Our family splits it before and after Nicaea.

I’ve said a lot about her already. So I’ll just say this. Her death broke something in me. And that break let in something deeper. I learned how to hurt. How to sit with sorrow. How to hold grief and not try to fix it. And that changed how we raised our children.

We grew slower to anger. We didn’t stop spanking altogether, but it wasn’t the go-to anymore. We started reasoning more. Taking things away. Explaining, not just reacting. And, yes, we probably overcorrected. That’s what people do. Our younger ones are looser. A little messier. But I don’t see the same nervous energy in them. They breathe easier.

I’m not as one-on-one attentive as I used to be. I can’t be. I’m outnumbered. But I’ve found new ways to stay close. Family dinners. Friday movie nights. Rides to work. I’ve traded intensity for steadiness. And something better has grown in its place.

If you age right, you mellow in some places and sharpen in others.

When you're young, everything feels big. You chase every little thing. But age teaches you what matters. You see men you once looked up to raise vipers. You watch good intentions rot under pride. And you realize you don’t have the bandwidth to do it all. So you start pruning. You cut what doesn’t bear fruit. And you cling to what does.

Pareto’s Principle shows up. Twenty percent of what you do brings eighty percent of the fruit. You learn to keep the main things, and let the rest go. That’s how you settle down without giving up. That’s how you get sharp without becoming brittle.

Every good parent carries regret. Anyone who says otherwise is lying or too proud to know better. Don’t trust them.

We have regrets. I’ll write more later. But we don’t let them win. My parents failed me in ways. I forgave them. I will fail my kids. I hope they do the same. If not, their day will come. They’ll ask forgiveness from their own children.

Years from now, my oldest will tell stories to my youngest. Stories the little one never heard. And the little one will tell stories back. Different ones. They are both time capsules. They carry pieces of who I was. Good and bad. Light and shadow. But if I keep repenting, if I keep leaning into grace, they’ll look back with love.

No one starts out knowing how to do this, so don’t freeze up. Your kids don’t need pristine parents, there’s no such thing. As the old saying goes, God writes straight with crooked sticks. By grace, He makes saints out of sinners’ children. So give them what you’ve got, and keep chasing Christ with everything in you. Ask Him to make your efforts count. If He can set a soaked altar on fire, He can work through your imperfect parenting.

Keep going, Mom and Dad. You’re not alone. God is with you, and that’s enough.

[Gunther Eagleman™ @GuntherEagleman]

🚨 THE MISSISSIPPI MIRACLE THEY DON’T WANT YOU TO SEE 

American 15-year-olds just posted near-WORST scores ever on a key global reading and math test.

Meanwhile Mississippi, once ranked 47th in 4th grade reading… is now 9th.

Adjust for demographics?

NUMBER ONE in the nation in 4th grade reading and math.

NUMBER ONE in 8th grade math.

A Black child in Mississippi is 2.5X more likely to be proficient in reading by 4th grade than a child in California.

They spend about $11,000 LESS per student than Massachusetts and they’re beating them.

How?
Science of reading.
3rd grade retention if you can’t read.
Charters in failing districts.
School choice for special needs.
RAISED standards, not lowered them.

Governor Tate Reeves: conservative reforms + accountability work for EVERY kid.

Blue states keep dumbing it down.

Mississippi raised the bar, and the kids met it.

This is the model. Copy it.

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@FactsAboutTexas Ft Worth

[MöCS @MocsMetal]

1990 Versus 2025

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@Bookerwren1 @jsolomonReports 😂

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@Philly182 @MichaelWBratton @SECcousinShane The OL is very coachable and made big improvements in the second half.

[Texas A&M Football @AggieFootball]

The stage is set in red, white and blue. 🇺🇸

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@colecubelic @GigEmGazette So you think the OL has a chance to get there this season?

[Augustus Glooper @eppy_jess]

@itiscodyg @BarstoolTexasAM Troll much.