CUAD (cofounded by incoming Congresswoman Darializa) calls Elias Rodriguez a political prisoner.
His crime wasn’t protest. He murdered a Jewish couple on the street as they left a party at the Capital Jewish Museum in DC.
Sickening.
Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Lynn Milgrim were murdered by Elias Rodriguez in the name of “free Palestine.” Gunned down in cold blood in the capital city of America.
When Sarah tried to crawl away, Rodriguez executed her.
Just days before their murders, Yaron had purchased a ring for his marriage proposal to Sarah. Two beautiful lives cut short and the communists are celebrating.
I want you to know that the irony of calling yourself “The Green Dragon Tavern”- the place where Sam Adams, Paul Revere, John Hancock, Dr. Joseph Warren, and the rest of the Sons of Liberty met to resist distant centralized power- while arguing against the Electoral College’s state-based design, is not lost on me.
The Sons of Liberty fought for the rights of the colonies as distinct political communities. The Electoral College preserves that principle: smaller states keep a voice so they aren’t simply overruled by the largest populations. Federalism is a feature, not a bug.
@greendragonhq The point is to keep the twats in Boston and the twats in LA from telling the people in Wyoming, who moved there to get away from twats like you, how to live their lives.
This is a motel. The government of California entered a contract to build a motel and it cost $72 million. They’re giving homes to some homeless people. The homes cost $650,000 each.
Within a year this will be destroyed and blighted. No businesses will be able to operate in the vicinity. Parks and playgrounds nearby will become unsafe for children.
They’re spending money on projects that make people’s lives worse and they’re paying ten times the going rate to build this stuff. And it’s your money.
I was taken to a restaurant called the Cheesecake Factory.
The portions arrived. I need to describe them carefully, because an American who grew up with them cannot see them anymore.
My plate was the size of a hubcap. On it, a pile of pasta that could have served three men. Beside the pasta, bread, which had come earlier, also free, also in quantities I did not need. I had also ordered a salad, foolishly, assuming the salad was a small thing. The salad came in a bowl I would have used for washing rice.
In my land, when you finish a meal, the plate is empty, and your gratitude lives in that emptiness. To leave food is to say the chef has failed, or the host has misread you, or you have insulted the farmer. It is a small shame, repeated millions of times, which has built eight hundred years of restraint.
I ate until I could not continue.
I had eaten perhaps a third of the plate.
The waitress came. She looked at the plate. She did not look disappointed. She looked at me the way a nurse looks at a man who has refused a second blanket.
She said, "Want me to box this up, hon?"
Box it. Take it with me. Carry a stranger's uneaten food out of a public building, past other paying customers, into the night, and continue eating it later, on a different day, from a plastic container, probably cold.
I said no, out of honor.
She said, "You sure? There's a lot left."
I said yes. I paid. I left.
I thought about that food for the entire drive home.
I thought about it while I brushed my teeth. I thought about it while I lay in bed. At two in the morning I thought about it so hard that I got out of bed, got in my car, drove back to the restaurant, and discovered, as I had feared, that it was closed.
The next day I returned. I ordered the same dish. I ate a third of it again. When the waitress came I looked her in the eye and said, with all the dignity my ancestors had passed down to me:
"Box it up, please."
She said, "Attaboy, hon."
I carried that box out of the restaurant like a newborn.
I ate from it the next afternoon, standing at my kitchen counter, cold, directly from the container, with a fork.
It was somehow better than it had been in the restaurant. It had rested. It had aged. It had become mine, in a way that food inside a restaurant never is.
I now order knowing I will not finish. I plan tomorrow's lunch at tonight's dinner. I am told this is, in fact, how it is done.
A nation that builds a restaurant where you can eat two meals, on two days, for one price, has solved a problem I did not know I had.
I still have not eaten a cheesecake there.
I keep forgetting.
Yes, I have made millions and millions of dollars doing comedy and I have been doing it for over 30 years and I continue to make millions doing comedy. So yes I make my living doing comedy
Two months ago, Javier Bardem told his followers to boycott Adidas because it partnered with a disabled Israeli man.
Now, he's starring in a film by an Israeli filmmaker.
According to Bardem, the Adidas campaign was unacceptable because it featured Shalev Biton, an Israeli who lost his leg when he was wounded on the Gaza border in 2021. He shared posts calling Biton a war criminal and a "genocidal demon."
Except Biton was injured while guarding inside Israel's borders, hardly a "war crime." He spent the years since becoming a powerful advocate for disability rights. The Adidas campaign advertised a service that lets amputees buy a single shoe. Adidas ended up apologizing for the ad.
This week, Lionsgate announced that Bardem will star in Wet, a new film written and directed by Alma Har'el, an Israeli filmmaker who was born and raised in Tel Aviv.
It might seem strange for Bardem to lead a global shaming campaign against an Israeli who advertised inclusion, and then happily accept a job opportunity from an Israeli making a star-studded film.
But it makes sense when you remember that all of his decisions are based on one thing. Opportunism.