Why have I not seen this video before!! Insane video☘️
Goshen, IN native, Rick Meier, take down Penn St in the infamous Snow Bowl
Credit: NBC Sports YouTube
I took my dad to the mall the other day to buy some new shoes (he is 92). We decided to grab a bite at the food court. I noticed he was watching a teenager sitting next
to him. The teenager had spiked hair in all different colors: green, red, orange, and blue. My dad kept staring at him. The teenager would look and find him staring every time.
When the teenager had had enough, he sarcastically asked, 'What's the matter old man, never done anything wild in your life? Knowing my Dad, I quickly swallowed my food so that I would not choke on his response, knowing he would have a good one, and in classic style he did not bat an eye in his response.
"Got drunk once, and had sex with a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my son."
The 2026 Concord Athletic Hall of Fame Induction will take place on Friday, April 24. Tickets are available in the Athletic Office through April 20.
2026 inductees:
Jenny Ball Bauer
Dairese Gary
Dave Juday
Dr. Seth Molnar
Dan Ogle
Details here: https://t.co/5OmImU7COe
Well, well, well…
Was his name really Barack Hussein Obama — or was it Jean Paul Ludwig? Let me explain.
After digging through records and old documents, something strange surfaced: the Social Security Number 042-68-4425, the one linked to Barack Obama, was originally assigned to a man named Jean Paul Ludwig — a French-born immigrant who came to the U.S. in 1924. He was reportedly given that SSN in March 1977.
Now here’s the kicker: Ludwig spent most of his adult life in Connecticut, which explains why his SSN begins with 042 — a prefix reserved for Connecticut residents.
Obama? Never lived or worked in Connecticut. So why would he have a Social Security number tied to that state?
It gets even more curious. Ludwig reportedly passed away in Hawaii, where Obama’s grandmother, Madelyn Payne Dunham, just happened to work in the probate office of the Honolulu Courthouse — with access to files of deceased individuals and their personal records, including unused Social Security numbers.
The theory is that Ludwig’s death was never properly reported to the Social Security Administration, likely because he never received benefits. That meant his number sat dormant — and accessible.
Some believe Dunham may have quietly found a number that belonged to someone long gone — someone not receiving benefits — and handed it off to her grandson, whose citizenship status has long been questioned by skeptics due to connections to Kenya and Indonesia.
And that’s just the beginning. If Trump — or anyone else — ever pushes past the birth certificate and straight into the mystery of this SSN, it’s going to be chaos. You’ll see heads spin on the left like never before. Because you can debate birthplaces all day long, but using a Social Security number that wasn’t assigned to you? That’s fraud.
This isn’t about politics. This is about the law — and the truth.
Let people make their own decisions, but they deserve to know.
If you’re reading this and just shrug it off? Then maybe you’re okay with being lied to. But if not, spread the word.
Because justice for this country is long overdue.
In God We Trust.
FOLLOW ME, THE NEXT DROP WILL BE SHOCKING
36 years ago today, a day I’ll never forget.
March 23, 1990. The Hoosier Dome.
Two semifinals in the morning, and then a state championship game that felt bigger than a state championship game. 41,046 people packed into the building, the largest crowd ever to watch a high school basketball game. It didn’t feel real. It felt like something closer to a Final Four than anything tied to high school.
Even at 9 years old, I could sense it. The noise, the scale, the anticipation. This wasn’t just a game. This was Indiana basketball at its absolute peak.
I didn’t grow up in Indiana, but my parents did, and my dad wasn’t going to let me miss it. So we piled into the car the night before and drove down to Indianapolis, chasing something that meant more to him than I probably understood at the time.
Because for him, this wasn’t just about that day.
It went back to 1972.
Elkhart’s North Side Gym. A sectional game. Middle of the week. About 5,000 people packed into that place, and he was on the floor, scoring a few buckets in front of a crowd that, at the time, probably felt just as big as the Dome would years later.
Did they win? Nope. He never bragged about it. If anything, he downplayed it. But when we went back just last year and he walked me onto that floor, pointing things out, retracing it possession by possession, you could see it come back to him. Even in a quiet gym, you could feel what it must have been like. A sea of people, all of it right on top of you.
That was his version of the magic.
Now here we were in 1990, and that same feeling had been magnified to a level neither of us had ever seen before.
An undefeated season. One game away from the first state championship in Concord history. A pocket of green sitting in a sea of red, holding onto the belief that this was finally it.
And I felt it too.
Even at 9 years old, I understood what the day meant. I could feel the magic of it.
I just happened to be on the wrong side of it.
Standing in the way was Damon Bailey, already the face of Indiana basketball before he ever stepped on a college floor. Bedford North Lawrence. Three Final Fours in four years. The state’s all-time leading scorer. The kind of player who didn’t just meet expectations, he carried everyone’s dreams.
He wasn’t just great. He was inevitable.
And years later, I’d find myself at IU, watching the end of Bob Knight’s era unfold in 2000, still hearing Bailey’s name echo, still understanding what he meant to that the state. I loved watching him play. It all connected back to that day.
But in 1990, I was just a kid sitting next to my dad 18 rows up, watching his moment unfold.
I knew how good Jamar Johnson was. I knew what Concord had. And I also knew, in that early way you start to understand the game, that moments like this don’t come around often.
Two years after Shawn Kemp had come through, there was an urgency to it. The season was a surprise. Win now, or it might never happened.
And then it slipped.
I still can’t watch the fourth quarter.
Not because of the game itself, but because of what it meant to him. I remember my dad in that moment more than anything else. What it took out of him. That kind of heartbreak doesn’t go away. It just settles in.
But I’m still glad I was there.
Because some moments aren’t about how they end. They’re about being there when something mattered that much, when a place, a game, and a group of people all felt connected in a way that’s hard to explain if you didn’t live it.
The #ThisisHoosierHysteria moment will always stay with me. I still have the ticket to prove it.
I would like to offer to pay the salaries of TSA personnel during this funding impasse that is negatively affecting the lives of so many Americans at airports throughout the country
Again I want to thank TSA agents for showing up to work even though democrats would rather throw a tantrum in the name of illegal aliens than pay you the checks you’ve earned.
I hope President Trump issues a bonus for your efforts and your service.
Lou Holtz was more than a football figure. He was a true leader. One of one. He consistently encouraged others in life. The message never changed. Trust, Love, Commitment. Prayers to the entire Holtz family. 🙏
🚨 BREAKING: Sky News Australia anchor just went FULL VIRAL worldwide with her EPIC live farewell to the dead Ayatollah Khamenei, straight in Persian!
She looked right into the camera and unloaded:
“A message to the late Supreme Leader: You son of a b*tch, BURN IN HELL!”