Mention the name "White House" and positive thoughts come to most of us. They come headed by a magnificent white mansion housing the most powerful office in our country -- if not the world -- and they include the names of men who sat in that office. We think of the wars that our brave soldiers fought in during the tenure of some men in that office who's strength and skill saved our country from enemy boots marching through the streets of our cities.
Recently, there was an event at the White House that many Americans called a celebration, others called a comedy, many called a disaster, still others didn't know what to call it. Stop for a moment and think of the centuries of blood that the foundation of this White House rests upon. Now think of these slimy good-for-nothings who spit on the American flag, stomp on it, and burn it while, before and after, beg for more welfare. And bleeding-heart ignoramuses defend them and their actions.
The low or high point of this event at the White House, depending on whether one's degree of sanity is positive-high or negative-low, seemed to have been a speaker brought in to entertain those fortunate enough to acquire an invitation to this lavish event. Dignified men and women representing the rich and powerful in politics, business, entertainment, education, science, the military, journalism, and other noteworthy fields of endeavor sat eating and drinking, straining to find humor in the entertainer's attempt at comedy. Suddenly, the entertainer looked at the man who sits in the office at the White House, the President of the United States, and said, ". . . my nigga . . . ."
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
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