People of McKinney. The Control of your City has been taken over by Muslim loving Indoctrinators.
You have one of two decisions to make.
1. Do Nothing and your City will continue to become a Hell Hole Run & Taken Over by Muslims.
or
2. Fight against the Muslim Invaders and go sign the Petition to remove those from City Council & the Mayor who have Sold their Souls to the Muslims.
Two Simple choices: One is for Freedom and the other is for Slavery to the Muslims!!
🚨WAKE UP CALL
WilliamCollister shared this on FB and it is worth reading and sharing:
The Muslim religion is the fastest growing religion per capita in the United States, especially in the minority races.
Last month I attended a training. During the training session there was a presentation by three speakers representing the Roman Catholic, Protestant and Muslim faiths, who each explained their beliefs.
I was particularly interested in what the Islamic Imam had to say. The Muslim gave a great presentation of the basics of Islam, complete with a video.
After the presentations, time was provided for questions and answers. When it was my turn, I directed my question to the Muslim and asked:
'Please, correct me if I'm wrong, but I understand that most Imams and clerics of Islam have declared a holy jihad [Holy war] against the infidels of the world and, that by killing an infidel, (which is a command to all Muslims) they are assured of a place in heaven. If that's the case, can you give me the definition of an infidel?'
There was no disagreement with my statements and, without hesitation, he replied, " Nonbelievers"
I responded, 'So, let me make sure I have this straight. All followers of Allah have been commanded to kill everyone who is not of your faith so they can have a place in heaven. Is that correct?'
The expression on his face changed from one of authority and command to that of a little boy who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.'
He sheepishly replied, 'Yes.'
I then stated, 'Well, sir, I have a real problem trying to imagine The Pope commanding all Catholics to kill those of your faith or Dr. Stanley ordering all Protestants to do the same in order to guarantee them a place in heaven!'
The Muslim was speechless.
I continued, 'I also have a problem with being your friend when you and your brother clerics are telling your followers to kill me! Let me ask you a question:
Would you rather have your Allah, who tells you to kill me in order for you to go to heaven, or my Jesus who tells me to love you because I am going to heaven and He wants you to be there with me?'
You could have heard a pin drop.
Needless to say, the organizers and/or promoters of the 'Diversification' training seminar were not happy with my way of dealing with the Islamic Imam, and exposing the truth about the Muslims' beliefs.
In twenty years there will be enough Muslim voters in the US. to elect the President.
I think everyone in the U.S. should be required to read this, but with the ACLU, there is no way this will be widely publicized, unless each of us sends it on! This is your chance to make a difference.
.@Patriots Star @TreVeyonH4 is going viral, not for football but for his faith! Read what he posted on his social media this week. I couldn’t agree more. Thank you TreVeyon!
.@Patriots Star @TreVeyonH4 is going viral, not for football but for his faith! Read what he posted on his social media this week. I couldn’t agree more. Thank you TreVeyon!
I’ve heard the saying that “God gives his toughest battles to his toughest soldiers.” But when I see the disciples that Jesus chose and suffered for His name sake, I don’t see Him choosing the “toughest soldiers”, as I learn about men and women in the past and even today who have laid down their lives for Jesus, once again I don’t see God choosing His “toughest soldiers.” But I see a strong and mighty God choosing weak men and woman, and empowering them by His Holy Spirit to face some of the toughest battles and be used for His glory.
I once thought I was a “tough soldier” until I met Jesus, I then realized that I’m so weak without Him, and apart from Jesus I can’t do anything. I need Jesus daily. The only way that I can truly become who God wants me to be and truly do what God wants me to do, is not by my power not by my might, but only by The Spirit of The Living God. Thank you Jesus.
In Texas I was taken to a grocery store called H-E-B.
I asked what the letters stand for. My friend said, "Howard Edward Butt."
I waited for the rest of the name. There was no rest. The man built an empire on his actual name, and the empire did not flinch.
Inside, a woman in a red apron said, "Welcome! Finding everything okay?"
I had been inside for eleven seconds. I had found nothing. I had not begun to look.
"...I have only just arrived."
"Well, let me know if you need anything, sweetheart."
Sweetheart. From a stranger with a price gun. I held the cart handle with both hands and tried to proceed as a man who had not just been loved at the produce section.
The store was clean in a way that suggested someone cared about it the way my grandmother cared about her kitchen floor. Not for the guests. For the floor.
A man named Dale in the meat department was cutting brisket behind glass. I watched him work. He held the knife the way a calligrapher holds a brush. Each cut landed in the same place twice.
I bowed slightly. I could not help it.
Dale looked up. "You want a sample, boss?"
"...I was paying respects to your blade work."
He paused. Then he cut a piece, put it on a toothpick, and handed it over the counter.
"Well, that's a first. Most folks just ask if I got any ribs left."
I ate it. It was perfect. I told him it was perfect.
"Appreciate that. Twenty-six years behind this counter."
Twenty-six years. The same counter. The same knife. In my country we would call this man a living national treasure and put him on television. Here he wore a red apron and asked if I wanted it wrapped.
Then the storm came.
I do not mean this as a metaphor. A hurricane was approaching the coast, and I learned something about this grocery store that I did not believe until I saw it with my own eyes.
H-E-B has mobile kitchens. Disaster relief trucks. A full-time Director of Emergency Preparedness. Over a hundred and fifty thousand employees they call Partners, and when the wind starts to build, the Partners do not go home.
They drive toward it.
During Hurricane Harvey, this grocery store fed thousands. They sent trucks into flooded towns before the government arrived. Before the Red Cross set up. Before anyone asked.
A grocery store. With a meat counter and a bakery and a sign that says HERE EVERYTHING'S BETTER.
Texans have a name for H-E-B during hurricanes. They call it the FEMA of Texas. I have confirmed this. Multiple Texans said it to me without smiling, the way you state the name of a general who does not lose.
I asked Dale if he had worked during Harvey.
He stopped cutting. He set the knife down, which I had not seen him do.
"Drove in at four in the morning. Water was up to my truck doors. Store was the only thing open for nine miles. We made sandwiches till we ran out of bread. Then corporate sent more bread. Then we ran out again."
"...How long?"
"Sixteen days."
I stood there holding a package of brisket in both hands and tried to find the word.
"...You are not a butcher, Dale."
He picked up his knife. "Sure I am."
In my country, a man who feeds his village through a disaster is honored for the rest of his life. In Texas, he is called a butcher, and he goes back to the counter on Monday, and he does not mention it unless you ask, and even then he picks up his knife before he finishes the story, because the brisket is not going to cut itself.
The store was founded in 1905 by a woman named Florence Butt, who put sixty dollars' worth of groceries on a shelf on the ground floor of her family's home in a town called Kerrville. That was the whole store. One shelf. One room. Sixty dollars.
A hundred and twenty years later, the family still owns it.
I walked out with four bags. A boy in a red apron carried two of them to my car. I told him I could carry my own bags. He said, "I know you can. But I'm already here, so."
I did not tip him. He would not let me.
I drove home past the highway where the flood line was still visible on the guardrail, three feet up, and I thought about Dale, and the bread, and the knife, and the name Howard Edward Butt, who was not embarrassed by it, because the name is not the point.
The shelf is the point.
Florence Butt put sixty dollars on a shelf in 1905. A hundred and twenty years later, when the water rose and the power died, the shelf was still standing, and there was bread on it.
A store is not its name. A store is whether the bread is there when you need it.
The bread was there.
Dallas police are investigating a fatal shooting that happened early Sunday morning after a disturbance outside a business in Southeast Dallas. https://t.co/MX3Squ5Iog
Can you believe that 6 police officers in a Tempe, AZ, @Starbucks were asked by an employee to either leave or move out of a customer’s line of sight—because a customer told the employee they didn’t feel safe because of the police presence?? 1/2 https://t.co/AHS3k5516p
This startup wants employers to stop giving its workers lavish perks and start helping them pay their student loans https://t.co/OEz8Hs8p4o via @businessinsider
From all of us in the #TexasTech family--Thank you, Cody, for stepping in while Fearless Champion is on the mend to continue one of the best traditions in college football!
🔴#WreckEm⚫️