@SenBillCassidy With all due respect to you-You can still change your vote
I’m not asking in terms of the slush fund or IRS protection etc. I am asking you to search your heart re the victims of Epstein. Woman.. barely. And girls ..children. This alone disqualifies Blanche. And you know it
BOOM! SAY IT LOUDER:
Gary Chambers Jr. just dragged Louisiana Republicans — while Speaker Mike Johnson wears holes in his kneepads for Dear Leader.
Louisiana ranks dead last in economy and crime, 46th in education, 48th in infrastructure, 49th in environment, 46th in opportunity, with 18.9% poverty — worst in America.
But they're stripping power from a Black-majority New Orleans instead of fixing any of it.
This isn't reform. It's racist reconstructionism.
Gary said it plainly: "You lost every constitutional amendment you proposed, even in your own districts."
They don't ask the people because they know they'd lose. No choice. No vote. No voice.
@MFTruth413@factpostnews Not only did they teport him as missing they said that they did not know he was released! If they had known, they would have gone to get him -they didn’t know where he was -what is so hard about this?
Virginia Roberts Giuffre’s family has created a GoFundMe to help offset mounting legal costs as they push forward in their fight for justice. Help spread the word or donate at the link here: https://t.co/5kS00QWx59
Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl (for the non Spanish speaking)
“I watched Bad Bunny deliver the most American halftime show I have ever seen. Then I came home and watched it again. And I am not OK. In the best possible way.
He sang every single word in Spanish. Every. Single. Word. He danced through sugarcane fields built on a football field in California while the President of the United States sat somewhere calling it “disgusting.” Lady Gaga came out and did the salsa. Ricky Martin lit up the night. A couple got married on the field. He handed his Grammy, the one he won eight days ago for Album of the Year, to a little boy who looked up at him the way every child looks up when they dare to believe the world has a place for them.
And then this man, this son of a truck driver and a schoolteacher from Vega Baja, Puerto Rico, stood on the biggest stage on the planet and said “God bless America.”
And then he started naming them.
Chile. Argentina. Uruguay. Paraguay. Bolivia. Peru. Ecuador. Brazil. Colombia. Venezuela. Panama. Costa Rica. Nicaragua. Honduras. El Salvador. Guatemala. Mexico. Cuba. Dominican Republic. Jamaica. The United States. Canada. And then, his voice breaking with everything he carries, “Mi patria, Puerto Rico. Seguimos aquí.” My homeland, Puerto Rico. We are still here.
The flags came. Every single one of them. Carried across that field by dancers and musicians while the jumbotron lit up with the only words that mattered: “THE ONLY THING MORE POWERFUL THAN HATE IS LOVE.”
I teared up. I’m not ashamed to say it. I sat on my couch and I wept because THAT is the America I believe in. That is the American story, not the sanitized, gated, English-only version that small and frightened people try to sell us. The REAL one. The messy, beautiful, multilingual, multicolored, courageous one. The one that has always been built by hands that speak every language and pray in every tongue and come from every corner of this hemisphere.
That is the America I want Jack and Charlotte to know. That when the moment came, when the whole world was watching, a Puerto Rican kid who grew up to become the most-streamed artist on Earth stood in front of 100 million people, sang in his mother’s language, blessed every nation in the Americas, and spiked a football that read “Together, we are America” into the ground. Not with anger. With joy. With love so big it made hate look exactly as small as it is.
And what did the President do? He called it “absolutely terrible.” He said “nobody understands a word this guy is saying.” He called it “a slap in the face to our Country.” The leader of the free world watched a celebration of love, culture, and everything this hemisphere has given to the world, and all he could see was something foreign. Something threatening. Something disgusting.
Let that sink into your bones.
The man who is supposed to represent all of us looked at the flags of our neighbors, heard the language of 500 million Americans across this hemisphere, and felt attacked. That’s not strength. That’s not patriotism. That is poverty of the soul.
And then there was the Turning Point show. Kid Rock in a college arena in North Dakota. Three million viewers watching a man who once wrote a song about sex with underage girls perform as the “family-friendly” alternative to a Puerto Rican artist celebrating love. They called it the “All-American Halftime Show”, as if America has a velvet rope. As if this country belongs to some of us and not all of us. As if you need to sing in English to count.
Here’s what I want to say to everyone who posted about that show tonight, who shared it proudly, who turned away from Bad Bunny’s celebration because it was in Spanish and the flags weren’t only red, white, and blue: (continued ⬇️)