Mike Martinez

Husband to Brigitte and Dad to Gracie and Andy.

[Wolf of X @WolfofX]

Jason Brown reached the pinnacle of professional football when he signed a five-year, $37.5 million contract with the St.

Louis Rams in 2009, becoming the highest-paid center in the NFL at the time.

After spending several seasons in the league and earning millions, Brown made a life-changing decision.

Rather than continue pursuing more NFL contracts, he stepped away from professional football and followed a different calling.

He purchased land in Louisburg, North Carolina, and founded First Fruits Farm, a 1,000-acre farm dedicated to helping those in need.

Despite having no prior farming experience, Brown taught himself how to farm and turned the property into a source of food for struggling families.

Through First Fruits Farm, Brown has donated hundreds of thousands of pounds of sweet potatoes, tens of thousands of pounds of cucumbers, and a wide variety of other fresh produce to food banks and food pantries.

Over the years, the farm has provided more than 1.5 million pounds of food to people facing hunger.

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

Go Spurs Go!

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@GlennPrechac Boom

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@GlennPrechac Handles to roll up the window.

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@GlennPrechac Rush

[Archaeo - Histories @archeohistories]

In 1868, a bankrupt Louisiana banker with a ruined plantation and no income took some pepper seeds of unknown origin, mixed the mash with salt mined from underneath his own property, aged it in barrels, and bottled it in cologne bottles because manufacturing specialty glass after the Civil War was impossible.

That bottle shape has not changed in 156 years...

Edmund McIlhenny had lost almost everything in the Civil War. His banking career was gone. The Avery Island plantation he had married into was destroyed. When his family returned in 1865 they found the fields in ruin and allegedly a few volunteer chile plants still surviving in the wreckage. Nobody knows exactly how McIlhenny obtained the Capsicum frutescens pepper seeds that became the foundation of his sauce.

What is documented is that he crushed the ripened peppers into a mash with rock salt mined from the natural salt dome underneath Avery Island, aged the mash in barrels, blended it with French white wine vinegar, strained it through cloth and bottled it in small cologne-type bottles with sprinkler fitments, sealed in green wax. Workers on the plantation used small red sticks called le petit bâton rouge to identify peppers at exactly the right stage of ripeness. In 1869 he sent exactly 658 bottles to grocers along the Gulf Coast at one dollar apiece. He secured a patent in 1870, and the sauce sold out immediately.

Manufacturing specialised glass was essentially impossible in the post-Civil War South so McIlhenny used what was available. The sprinkler fitment on a cologne bottle turned out to be the perfect delivery mechanism for a concentrated pepper sauce best applied in dashes rather than poured. That practical wartime improvisation became one of the most recognisable pieces of packaging in the world. The original recipe, Tabasco peppers, Avery Island salt and vinegar, has not changed in 156 years. The salt still comes from underneath the same island. Every pepper seed used in production worldwide still originates from Avery Island.

A bankrupt banker's post-Civil War improvisation, bottled in repurposed cologne bottles, became one of the most globally distributed food products in history.

© Eats History

[New Orleans Pelicans @PelicansNBA]

Yeah, they're all-rookie 🔥

RT for your chance to win both rookie autographed pics!

Rules🔗 https://t.co/P5sVm9v9UC

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@farrah_yvette True Dat!

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@spurs @HEB GSG!

[60 Minutes @60Minutes]

Retired Adm. William McRaven, who organized the mission to bring Osama bin Laden to justice, says that, to him, honor is "about upholding the values that were baked into our national DNA."

[j wall ✡ @jwhaifa]

My daughter got detention for defending her late Marine father — but when FOUR MEN IN UNIFORM walked into the school the next day, the entire building went silent.
"Mrs. Harrison, you have to understand: Grace’s behavior was completely UNACCEPTABLE. We respect your husband’s service to this country, but..." her teacher said.
My 14-year-old daughter sat beside me, her eyes glassy.
The day before, one of her classmates had made a joke about Grace not having a father.
He was a Marine. Grace was only three when we lost him.
So when that girl laughed and said, "Maybe your dad just didn’t want to come back," something inside Grace snapped.
She shot to her feet so fast that her chair slammed to the floor.
Through tears, she shouted,
"My dad was a HERO. Don’t you ever talk about him like that again!"
She was the one who got detention.
She barely said a word the whole way home. That night, I found her sitting on the floor in my husband’s old sweatshirt.
"I’m sorry I got in trouble," she whispered. "I just couldn’t let her say that about him."
My heart cracked wide open.
The next morning, the school called an emergency assembly.
I assumed it had something to do with Spirit Week. A few minutes after the first bell, Grace texted me from the auditorium.
Then my phone rang.
"Mom..." she whispered, her voice shaky. "You need to come."
I stood up so fast I knocked over my coffee.
"What happened? Grace, are you okay?"
There was a long silence on the other end.
"Mom... four men in uniform just walked into the school."
"Hide right now. What’s happening? I’m calling the police!"
But Grace laughed.
"No, Mom, they’re not doing anything bad. You have no idea WHAT JUST HAPPENED! Just get here, please!" she said, before the line went dead.
I didn't bother grabbing my purse. I threw my keys into the ignition, my heart hammering against my ribs, and sped to the high school. When I burst through the double doors of the auditorium, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The room, packed with over eight hundred teenagers, was completely, eerily silent.
Down the center aisle stood four imposing figures in impeccable Marine Corps Dress Blues. The brass buttons caught the overhead lights, and their crisp white covers were tucked sharply under their arms. I recognized the man at the front immediately. It was Staff Sergeant Miller—my late husband’s closest friend and squad leader. I had called him in tears the night before, just needing someone who understood the weight of the disrespect Grace had faced. I hadn't expected him to do *this*.
The principal, Mr. Davis, stood awkwardly at the podium, looking completely out of his depth.
Staff Sergeant Miller didn't wait for permission to speak. He stepped up to the front, taking the microphone from the stand, and his booming, authoritative voice echoed through the massive room.
"We apologize for the interruption, Principal Davis," Miller said, though his tone suggested he wasn't sorry at all. "But we received word that a young lady in this school was being disciplined for defending the honor of a fallen United States Marine."
A collective gasp rippled through the student body. The teacher who had given Grace detention slunk back into her seat in the front row, her face turning crimson.
Miller’s heavy gaze swept across the bleachers. "Where is Grace Harrison?"
Grace stood up slowly from the middle row, still wearing her dad’s oversized sweatshirt.
"Come down here, Grace," Miller commanded gently.
As she walked down the bleacher steps, the three other Marines broke formation and fell perfectly into step behind her, creating an impromptu honor guard. They escorted her to the center of the floor.
Miller turned to face the silent crowd. "Captain Mark Harrison didn't just 'not want to come back.' He gave his life pulling three wounded men out of a burning transport vehicle in the middle of a firefight. I know, because I was one of those men. None of us standing here today would be breathing if it weren't for Grace's father."
The silence in the room was absolute. You could have heard a pin drop. A few rows up, the girl who had made the cruel joke the day before was staring at her shoes, visibly crying.
Miller turned back to Grace and dropped to one knee, bringing himself to eye level with her. He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a gleaming Challenge Coin from their old unit.
"Grace," he said, his voice thick with emotion but loud enough for the microphone to carry. "Your father was the bravest man I ever knew. You stood your ground yesterday, just like he would have. You protected his honor, and now, his squad is here to protect yours. We have your back. Always."
He pressed the heavy metal coin into her palm, stood up, and then all four Marines snapped a crisp, perfectly unified salute to my fourteen-year-old daughter.
Tears streamed down Grace's face, but they weren't tears of anger or shame anymore. She stood tall, squared her shoulders, and returned a clumsy but beautiful salute of her own.
Suddenly, from the back row of the bleachers, a single student stood up and started clapping. Then another. Within seconds, the entire auditorium erupted into a deafening standing ovation. Even Mr. Davis and the teachers were on their feet.
I hurried down the aisle, wiping away my own tears, and wrapped Grace in a massive hug. Staff Sergeant Miller tipped his head to me, a fierce, protective glint in his eye.
Before we could leave the building, Principal Davis rushed over to us in the hallway. He looked thoroughly chastised.
"Mrs. Harrison, Grace," he stammered, wringing his hands. "I... I want to formally apologize. The detention has been completely wiped from her record. We will be handling the bullying incident with the other student appropriately, and frankly, I think our staff needs a heavy refresher on empathy."
Grace squeezed the coin in her hand, looking up at the four men in uniform who had dropped everything to stand by her side. She didn't need to say a word. The message had been delivered loud and clear.
Captain Mark Harrison had left a legacy of courage behind, and that day, an entire school learned exactly what it meant to be a hero's daughter.

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@Ziggys_Duck Criminal, that it never won an Emmy!

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@marcorasi1960 Hail Bacchus

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@marcorasi1960 Hail Bacchus!

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@mspears96 @Mspearsjr Congratulations, hope your son becomes an LSU Tiger like his Dad!

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@ATRightMovies

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@marcorasi1960 Truly sorry to hear this news. Wishing a speedy recovery.

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@ATRightMovies

[Mike Martinez @zenitrammichael]

@BatonRougeBKM @tcgoldrush Raider Pride!

[New Orleans Saints @Saints]

RT to support @demario__davis 💪

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