Activist: "American cattle ranching is destroying the Great Plains."
Rancher: "How many bison were here in 1800?"
Activist: "A lot."
Rancher: "Sixty million. Same biomass as every cow in America today. Standing on the same grass."
Activist: "That was different."
Rancher: "How?"
Activist: "It was natural."
Rancher: "It was ruminants. Eating grass. Trampling it. Dunging it. The grassland built six feet of topsoil underneath them."
Activist: "Then we shouldn't have killed them."
Rancher: "Correct. We killed them, ploughed the prairie, and got the Dust Bowl in thirty years. Largest ecological collapse in American history."
Activist: "..."
Rancher: "The fix wasn't fewer animals. The fix was putting them back. The grass evolved to be eaten."
Activist: "So reintroduce bison."
Rancher: "Or use the 1,200-pound ruminant that's already here, in the same numbers, doing the same job, on the same grass."
Activist: "It's not the same."
Rancher: "It's the same animal with a different accent."
Activist: "It still feels wrong."
Rancher: "The thing that felt wrong was killing the bison. The cattle are how we're paying it back. Take them off and you finish the job we started in 1870."
I am for waiting for the day you’re no longer President.
⠀
Not because we’re tired of you. The opposite. Because you deserve to go home. You deserve quiet mornings. You deserve to sit on your own porch without the weight of 330 million people sitting on your shoulders. You deserve your family back. You deserve peace.
⠀
You didn’t have to do any of this.
⠀
You had the money.
You had the name.
You had the life most men only dream about.
You could’ve spent the rest of your days golfing, traveling, watching your grandkids grow up.
⠀
Instead you stepped into a fire that nearly cost you your Life.
⠀
They mocked you. They sued you. They raided your home. They tried to bankrupt you. They tried to lock you up. They dragged your wife and kids through the mud. They put a bullet through your ear and you got up with your fist in the air and kept going saying " Fight Fight Fight "
⠀
For what?
⠀
For us. Regular people. Truck drivers. Welders. Waitresses. Roughnecks. Farmers. Single moms working two jobs. Grandparents on a fixed income watching the country they built get handed away.
⠀
You didn’t owe us a thing. And you gave us everything.
⠀
You risked your name. Your legacy. Your safety. Your family’s safety. Your brand. Your freedom. All of it. So this country could have one more shot at being what it was supposed to be." GREAT AGAIN "
⠀
And the truth nobody wants to admit?
⠀
We didn’t deserve a President like you.
⠀
A nation this divided, this ungrateful, this asleep at the wheel didn’t earn a man willing to bleed for it. But God sent you anyway. And I’ll thank Him for that until the day I die. 🙏
⠀
So when the day finally comes that you walk away from that desk, I hope you sleep good. I hope your wife laughs again without looking over her shoulder. I hope your kids breathe easy. I hope you golf till the sun goes down and nobody bothers you for nothing.
⠀
You earned every bit of it.
⠀
Thank you, Mr. President. From a humble man in Florida who prays 🙏 for you every day
⠀
God bless you. God bless your family. And God Bless 🙏 the United States of America. 🇺🇸
Heroic Last Stand of Two Marines in Ramadi.
April 22, 2008, two U.S. Marines, Corporal Jonathan Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, stood their ground at an outpost in Ramadi, Iraq, as a truck bomb approached their position, They Leaned In they had about six seconds left to live.
It took maybe another two seconds for them to present their weapons, take aim, and open up. By this time the truck was half-way through the barriers and gaining speed the whole time. The recording shows a number of Iraqi police, some of whom had fired their AKs, now scattering like the normal and rational men they were—some running right past the Marines.
They had three seconds left to live. For about two seconds more, the recording shows the Marines’ weapons firing non-stop…the truck’s windshield exploding into shards of glass as their rounds take it apart and tore in to the body of the son-of-a-bitch who is trying to get past them to kill their brothers—American and Iraqi—bedded down in the barracks totally unaware of the fact that their lives at that moment depended entirely on two Marines standing their ground.
If they had been aware, they would have known they were safe … because two Marines stood between them and a crazed suicide bomber. The recording shows the truck careening to a stop immediately in front of the two Marines. In all of the instantaneous violence Yale and Haerter never hesitated.
By all reports and by the recording, they never stepped back. They never even started to step aside. They never even shifted their weight. With their feet spread shoulder width apart, they leaned into the danger, firing as fast as they could work their weapons.
They had only one second left to live. The truck explodes. The camera goes blank. Two young men go to their God. Six seconds. Not enough time to think about their families, their country, their flag, or about their lives or their deaths, but more than enough time for two very brave young Marines to do their duty … into eternity. That is the kind of people who are on watch all over the world tonight—for you.
50+ years in baseball. 17 as an MLB manager. over 2,500 games from the dugout.
I won Manager of the Year and also lost more games than I want to count.
I led teams through losing seasons and took a team to the World Series.
The biggest difference was leadership.
If I could go back to my first day as a leader, here are the 5 lessons I'd whisper in my own ear:
Lesson 1: Be a window when it's good, a mirror when it's bad.
The leaders I respected most shared every win and absorbed every hit.
What this looks like in practice:
• Wins: name the people who made it happen
• Losses: say "that's on me" before anyone asks
• Locker room: spotlight the effort before the outcome
Your team will fight harder for a leader who deflects credit and absorbs blame.
Lesson 2: Nobody hands you trust. You earn it before you coach it.
Early in my career, plenty of coaches tried to fix my swing.
I tuned out every one I didn't trust.
Get to know your people before you try to develop them.
Their hobbies, their family, what makes them tick.
Then the coaching lands.
Lesson 3: Shower well after every loss.
After a losing streak in Colorado, our team president asked me how I kept the clubhouse together.
This was my rule:
• Self-evaluate honestly, were we prepared, did we execute?
• Shower well, wash off the grit, grime, and angst before you walk out
• Be present for whoever you're going home to
Tomorrow is a new opportunity. Don't drag yesterday into it.
Lesson 4: Lead transformationally, not transactionally.
Transactional leaders ask: what can this person do for me?
Transformational leaders ask: how do I put this person in a position to win?
The first builds compliance.
The second builds careers.
When your people start chasing growth instead of your approval, you've crossed over.
Lesson 5: Stay humble before life humbles you.
There are two kinds of people in this world: those who are humble, and those who are about to be.
Discipline keeps you in the first group:
Skill gets you in the room. Humility keeps you there.
50 years taught me leadership isn't about you.
It's about the people you serve.
@Rockies
Doc Holliday was a dentist with a classical education in Greek and Latin who killed his first man at 19, coughed blood into a handkerchief for the next 17 years, and died in bed with a glass of whiskey, saying, "This is funny."
Funny because he'd spent his entire adult life expecting to die in a gunfight. He never did.
John Henry Holliday was born in Griffin, Georgia in 1851. He came into the world with a cleft palate and a partial cleft lip, a deformity that in 1851 was usually a death sentence for an infant. His uncle, a surgeon named John Stiles Holliday, performed the corrective surgery himself when the baby was two months old. His mother Alice spent the next several years patiently teaching the boy to speak clearly. She taught him piano. She taught him manners. She taught him how to bow to a woman and how to address a gentleman. By the time he was a teenager, John Henry could quote Virgil in the original Latin, play Chopin from memory, and dance a quadrille.
Then she died of tuberculosis when he was 15, and so did the small, soft world she'd built for him.
He was sent to Philadelphia to study dentistry. He graduated from the Pennsylvania College of Dental Surgery in 1872 at the age of 20, one of the youngest in his class, and his entry "Diseases of the Teeth" was considered exceptional. He won an award at a dental fair for "Best Set of Artificial Teeth in Gold." His diploma still exists. You can look at it.
He moved back south, set up a practice, and started coughing.
By 1873 the diagnosis was unmistakable. Pulmonary tuberculosis. The same disease that killed his mother. Doctors gave him a few months, maybe a year. They told him his only chance was to move west, where the dry air might slow the lungs from drowning. He kissed his cousin Mattie goodbye. He had been in love with her for years. She would later become a Catholic nun, Sister Mary Melanie, and she was the woman Margaret Mitchell would model Melanie Hamilton on in Gone With the Wind. They wrote each other letters until the day he died. Nobody has ever found those letters. The family burned them.
He went to Dallas. He set up a dental office. And his patients, watching this thin polite young man cough blood into a handkerchief between extractions, stopped coming.
So he turned to cards.
Faro, mostly. Poker when he could find it. He had a gambler's gift and a dying man's nerve, and within two years he was making more in a week at the tables than he'd made in a year pulling teeth. He moved through Texas and into the Colorado mining camps, then New Mexico, then Arizona. He drank an estimated two to three quarts of whiskey a day, partly because it numbed the lungs and partly because nothing else did.
Here is what made him terrifying.
Most gunfighters in the Old West were cowards in expensive boots. They picked fights they could win and avoided fights they couldn't. Doc Holliday already knew he was dying. There was nothing you could threaten him with. There was no future you could take from him. He would walk into a room of armed men with that thin slow smile and a Colt and a knife and sometimes a sawed off shotgun under his long grey coat, and the math running behind his pale blue eyes was simple. Every day he was alive was already stolen. The men across the table had something to lose. He had nothing.
He weighed about 135 pounds. He was five foot ten. He was usually drunk. And by the time he reached Tombstone, men crossed streets to avoid him.
His common law wife was a Hungarian woman named Mary Katharine Horony, better known as Big Nose Kate. She had been born to nobility in Budapest, run away as a teenager after her parents died, worked as a prostitute in Iowa, and ended up on the frontier with a temper that matched his. He once got her out of jail by bribing a guard. She once got him out of jail by setting fire to the hotel next door as a distraction, then walking him out at gunpoint. They fought constantly. They loved each other in the way two people love each other when they both know one of them is going to die soon.
He met Wyatt Earp in Fort Griffin, Texas, in 1877. The friendship that followed would shape both their lives. The legend goes that Doc saved Wyatt's life in Dodge City, walking out of the Long Branch Saloon to find Wyatt surrounded by cowboys with guns drawn, and putting his pistol to the leader's temple before anyone saw him move. Wyatt later said he owed Doc his life. He said Doc was "the most skillful gambler, and the nerviest, fastest, deadliest man with a six gun I ever knew."
Wyatt Earp said that. About a tubercular dentist who could quote Cicero.
At the OK Corral on October 26, 1881, the fight lasted thirty seconds. Doc was carrying a 10 gauge coach gun under his coat. He killed Tom McLaury with both barrels. When Morgan Earp was assassinated months later in retaliation, Doc rode with Wyatt on what history would later call the Vendetta Ride, a three week killing spree across Arizona that left every man they believed responsible dead in the dirt. They were never caught. They were never tried. They simply rode out of the territory and disappeared.
By 1887 the disease had finally caught up with him. He was 36 years old. He weighed less than 120 pounds. He had outlived nearly every man who had ever tried to kill him, and most of the ones who had only thought about it. He checked into the Hotel Glenwood in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, where the sulfur springs were said to ease the lungs. They didn't.
On the morning of November 8th, the nurse brought him a glass of whiskey. He had always sworn he would die with his boots on, the way a gunfighter was supposed to die. He looked down at his bare feet under the white hospital sheet. He looked at the whiskey. He started to laugh.
"This is funny."
Then he drank it.
And he died.
True Christians know literally EVERYTHING was created by The Lord.
"In the beginning was the Word, (Jesus) and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made." John 1
🚨 Texas Democrat U.S. Senate candidate James Talarico just nuked his own campaign.
Interviewer: “Something you love that’s not family or friends?”
Talarico: “Trans children.”
Not God.
Not his faith.
Not Texas values.
Not the Constitution.
“Trans children.”
There is no such thing as “transgender children.” Kids cannot consent to irreversible medical procedures. This is grooming language dressed up as compassion — and Texas voters are wide awake.
This one answer should end his Senate chances right here. Texas isn’t buying it.
#Texas #Talarico #SenateRace #ProtectKids #NoSuchThingAsTransKids #Viral
Man, the second the money laundromat was closed in Ukraine, the Democrats never mentioned it again. I’ve never seen a noble cause abandoned so quickly.
They are such phonies.
If you believe in America First, help get this in front of the President. Pls Repost and Share this everywhere. @POTUS President Trump, this Marine needs you. This is Casey West a combat Marine who served in Afghanistan on CH-53 helicopters. He was exposed to toxic chemicals that are now killing him. Diagnosed with terminal glioblastoma (brain cancer) the VA is failing him, barely covering anything while he fights with alternative treatments his body can actually handle. He’s a father, a warrior, and a man who’s still trying to help others even while battling for his life. Veterans like Casey dropped everything to serve this country. Now it’s time for America to have his six. @realDonaldTrump
An MLB player tosses a ball to a kid wearing his jersey.
The kid makes the catch… then hands it to his little sister and gives her a hug. How can you not love baseball
At Palm beach Lincoln Reagan dinner Last week as a guest… the event was surprised by the president surprise visit.. and the surprise kept coming that night as I was called on stage by @potus@realdonaldtrump what a personal moment for me… I’m living proof The American dream is alive and well! … it’s there for you! You just have to go get it, earn it, fight for it,stand up for it!!! It’s the greatest truth in the world! America is beautiful!!! Being recognized by the president of the united state is a tremendous honor … and proof no matter what life throws at you… the American dream is for everyone you can over come your circumstances! That’s the American way !!! Weather your born with nothing… discriminated by your looks… assumed stupid… told to shut up and not be yourself or stay in your lane, because it’s not the norm… this is America!!! you can use the negatively as fuel… and be the man I always new I could be …. Thank you America ! #theamericandream #nationaltreasure