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From The Mind of a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas

Fri, 11/30/2018 - 6:21am

From the Mind of a Dumb ole Biker from Alvin, Texas:

A well respected friend of mine and political figure in Austin, Jerry Patterson, states from one of my writings, that we’ve always had Red Flag laws here in Texas. He is correct, but it hasn’t been until recently, that we’ve seen in other states, just how these Red Flag Laws can be abused. While Jerry Patterson, states that no one has paid attention to these laws and no one has complained of these laws in the past, we need to start paying attention and insure, especially here in Texas, that these laws don’t become abused by the system.

Why you may ask? And why now?

Things have been heating up again and our Federal Government has renewed their efforts on gun control. Many of these spineless elected officials are going after anything that looks scary and have changed the terminology from Automatic, which has been outlawed since the 1930’s, To Semi- Auto…Now pay attention, Semi-auto is just about anything you own that’s not a bolt or lever action weapon. That’s our .22 caliber rifle sitting in the closet, that’s any pistol you may own that’s magazine fed, that’s any rifle that feeds the next round automatically. Folks, if we don’t start paying attention to what’s going on in other states now, it’s just a matter of time before it happens here in Texas.

Think it can’t happen?

Look at the past elections, Beto almost beat Cruz, All of our Republicans here in Houston were replaced by Liberal Democrats. Cities and towns can and will try and ban certain weapons within the city limits as we have seen in other states. All that has to happen to make this a reality, is we end up with the wrong elected people in our city councils, the wrong judges, and even the wrong county officials. The wrong Sheriff can really put us all in jeopardy. The wrong people in Austin can really deliver a blow to us at the State Level. After all, when it comes right down to it, it is a States Rights issue.

It’s well past time to pay attention to what’s really going on around us. These people are trying to change the meaning of the Second Amendment. Think it can’t happen? Look around you and see what’s taking place in other states.

But what do I know?
I’m just a Dumb ole Biker from Alvin, Texas… Be Safe and God Bless!

The Butcher Shop

The post From The Mind of a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Saving Karrie

Thu, 11/29/2018 - 11:00am

I don’t expect this to be the Butcher Shop’s usual “front page news,” and the SEO is gonna suck, but in addition to our political and philosophical articles Brother Theo and I have embarked upon a book telling about the events in Utah last year. This is a highly riveting tale of a family attacked and the results of two men who took on the Goliath bureaucratic office of the Child Protective Services with just determination and a single copy of the Constitution. Hope you enjoy “Saving Karrie.”

Saving Karrie


The house in Texas had grown lonely since the kids went back to Brigham City. The day after they leave is always bad. Where the day before the grill would have been churning out bacon and eggs, hot chocolate in the coffee pot, and our little dog, Cleo, in everybody’s business looking for a treat. The day after there is nothing. Absolute solitude.

When Joe died he’d left everyone set up. All of his military benefits rested on his five little “buddies,” and his wife. He formally adopted the children just weeks before his death. He’d married their mother to share the same with her. That, and to get her needed care for her heart. In return we all cared for the “Old Sarge” during his final days. There were three houses, two in Texas, and of course the “Big Blue House in Utah. The houses in Texas were fairly normal. His original house was the classic “VA” prototype, with the obligatory closet near the front door, one car garage that Joe had long ago converted into an apartment, complete with full bath, and a country porch that’s extended the width of the rear. Indeed, the house was twice as big as when he bought it, and he’d built it in a woodshed that’s he’d built, too. Pam and I owned the other house in Texas but had given it solely to her during our “divorce.”

But the Big Blue House was a wonderland! Six thousand square feet, three floors, resting at the foot of Wasatch Mountains smack in the middle of an apple orchard. There was a basement, if you could call it that, for Joe had laid out plans to remodel before he died, and his widow, Pam, had kept the plans, implementing them according to his instructions, turning it into a house beneath a house.

Joe had picked Brigham City because it reminded him of his childhood home in upstate New York. The snow on the mountains, the small town air, and Mormons! Joe didn’t buy into their religion, but had no problem with people who minded their own business, and their kids wore dress shirts and dresses to school. That, and his disabled vet tags on his car caused endless, “Thank you for your services” at the local Walmart.

But America didn’t thank Joe for his service. It left him with the ticking time bomb called “Agent Orange” and a year ago that time bomb went off! Joe now rested in the San Antonio National Cemetery, while his buddies enjoyed the fruits of his labor fifteen hundred miles away.

The kids were all ten and younger. There was the “New Baby,” so called because he was, well, the new baby. He’d become Joseph Stevin TarajosThe last to be born. Taken by the Child Protective Services on the very day of his birth, and given to my former wife. My daughter in law, Jackie, and my son had come under investigation by the department, and rather than see the children scattered among foster homes, my then wife, Pam stepped up to the plate and took the children. Because I stood by Jackie I presented a problem. Jackie wasn’t allowed to be around the kids, ergo if I were around Jackie, than I couldn’t be around them either. When it was all said and done, Pam and I engineered our own divorce, and she formally adopted the babies, with New Baby bringing up the rear.

Next were the Twins, Chris, and Nick. Chris never settled on a nickname, but Nick quickly became “Nick the Lawyer” by virtue of his mouth. Then Justin. When the CPS adopts there is a name change in an effort to give the child a fresh start on life. Originally Justin had been named after his deceased uncle Bobby, but he was old enough to remember his birth name. When it came time to change he picked “Justin” for Justin Bieber. His nickname became “Just a Bobby.”

Then there was Karrie. The oldest. Spitting image of Jackie, and smart as a whip. When she was a toddler she’d scamper around the floor of the studio back in Berry Creek, a country club neighborhood just north of Austin. YouTube was in its infancy, and Karrie’s mother, Jackie, had morphed into YouTube’s “iJackie.” Countless hours of film and production, with baby girl at her feet. We used an eMac computer to render the videos. The machine came with a little circular mouse called a “Puck” due to its resemblance to a hockey puck. All through the day the little girl would hear, “Give me the puck,” and “Move the puck there.” One day little Karrie looked at her mother and said, “I’m the Puck!” And she remained “Puck” until this very day.

But Puck had luggage. While Pam navigated the stormy waters of adoption the children had found themselves in the foster care system. We will never know what happened during those hours, but it left Puck with a little known condition called Reactive Attachment Disorder, RAD! And it left her talking to angels. Just like the song says, they called her out by her name!

Puck could spin a yarn better than Mark Twain, and unless you knew what you were dealing with you’d buy the whole bill of goods. She confused the past with the present, and would impugn past wrongs done to her on her current caregiver. She was also a type one diabetic. As she grew older she searched her troubled mind for answers, answers we could not give her. She was iJackie’s daughter. She was “living proof!” But these things had to remain buried for a later, more mature mind.

She went to school like any other child. She wanted to belong, to fit in. She possessed a remarkable gift of gab, and when other little girls would relate a story, Puck could always best them. And she was beautiful. So beautiful that she would make a young Shirley Temple look like a street urchin. She’d lived in a mansion in Berry Creek, and been to Hollywood! And here she was comparing notes with a bunch of little girls who thought a trip to see the temple in Salt Lake City was a very big deal. Puck told her stories, and she bid the stories to multiply.

On this particular day I found myself sitting alone on the back porch in Texas. Cigarette, coffee, and an iPhone grinding out my daily article for The Amazing Doc Greene in Houston, and the Tea Party Tribune. There was sadness in my heart, but as Joe had admonished me on the day he died, “Men don’t cry!” Then the phone rang.

Pam called, out of her mind with fear. A great catastrophe had befallen the Big Blue House. Our safe haven had been turned upside down, and Joe’s legacy was in danger of being destroyed. I could hardly believe my ears. When I hung up I only had one person I could call. My best friend. A truck driving psychologist called Brother Theo. He answered the phone, and all I could say was, “They’re taking Karrie!”


The outside temperature was just right, it was three a.m. The road was practically mine. I was running the best piece of equipment money can buy across I40 in California about twenty miles east of the dead tree wilderness which I was planning on reaching in about ten minutes.

It’s called ‘fool moon, no stars’. Running a big truck over the triple digit mark late at night in the land of the CHP. I had my bird dog, a radar detector that has been worth every cent of the twenty six hundred dollars I paid for it nearly twenty years ago, and letting Trans Siberia Orchestra rip through The Three Kings and I.

The speed limit for big trucks in Cali is fifty five miles per hour, and while I am not a particularly criminal person, I do often break laws that are, well, stupid. Fifty five is stupid on I40 in California, so I doubled it; which brings us to about mile marker seventy five when my phone went off.

A soothing female voice informed me in an Australian accent that the caller was from one of the handful of people I take calls from, so I muted the music and throttled down to a speed more conducive to safety while taking a call.

“It’s me.” said the voice on the other end of the line.

I sat forward a bit to give myself a better look at my mirrors and said “So it seems. You’d better not be ordering Falafel bud, we’re all out of hominy grits.”

There was silence on the other end that went on long enough to make me wonder if cell tower proximity had contributed to that number of fewest dropped calls my phone company used to brag about when the caller said “They’re taking Karrie.”

It was my oldest friend; maybe my only friend, and Karrie is his granddaughter. “No they are not.” I said matter of factly.

“I’ve got the petition right here.”he said. I listened to the silence and thought for a minute.

“Where is she now? I asked.

“Utah.” The word seemed to fill the cabin of my truck with despair.

“Beyond our conventional sources” my voice was calming. “But not beyond our reach. When is the hearing?” It’s funny how talking to a disembodied voice out in the dark, dark desert floating on an ocean of darkness from the inside of a passing ship, with its muted, blinking lights makes a person feel.

“They already had it. Had it Friday.” Friday had been earlier the same day. The voice seemed farther away. “Ted, they had it without even telling Pam that she was being investigated.”

“Uh huh.” I grunted shifting down to fifty five and setting the cruise.”And the municipal court date?”

“Monday.” came the terse reply.

“She got an attorney?”

“No. I think she’s in shock Ted. She’s barely making any sense.” Since none of this made much sense to me it seemed that Karrie’s mom wouldn’t have much to work with in the way of making sense, and I said so. “Just tell me what to do.”

Those words coming across so many miles, across earth, into space, and back to earth again sobered me. In the forty odd years I have been friends with, and partnered with Wilbur,”Bill the Butcher” Witt, I had never heard him ask that question. Doing some rough calculations in my head I asked him to send the state’s formal petition to my email. Next I told him that Karrie’s mom would be needing an attorney in court that Monday morning to file for a continuance. “Don’t pick someone out of the phone book. Find out who lives right there in Brigham City and is connected to the bishopric

.”You think there’s a mormon connection?” he asked.

It’s Utah ain’t it?”


The Butcher Shop

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Utah Chondrites

Wed, 11/28/2018 - 8:51pm
The Butcher Shop

The post Utah Chondrites appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure

Tue, 11/27/2018 - 2:56pm

Our Utah story is almost unbelievable. Not like Amy’s trips into fantasy, but full of twists and turns. When you go through something like this you really only see the tip of the iceberg, and only later become fully aware of the fathoms to which the berg extends.

Amy’s mind is full of paranoia, and she sees secret agents under every bed. Real life doesn’t work that way. My granddaughter, Puck, drew the attention of the Utah CPS. No biggie. Been there before. But this time one Alex, CPS, drew up a petition citing several charges against my ex. It seems that Puck and her best friend were out in the school yard swapping lies. “My daddy whips me with his belt!” “My momma whips me with a big stick!” My daddy grabbed me by the hair!” “If I don’t come to school tell the cops to come find my body!”

Best friend runs to her teacher, who runs to the Principal, who calls CPS, who calls the cops, who all show up at the house. They didn’t find a body, of course, but they did file the petition, filled with the confessions of a ten year old little girl with Reactive Attachment Disorder. And they took every word as gospel!

My ex called me, I called Theo, and we were off to the holy land. We’d seen the petition. In Utah anyone can file a petition against anyone else. Also, once a child makes an allegation it can never be retracted. It’s a layered society. There are two kinds of people in Utah. The Saints, and the not so saintly known as “Gentiles.” They don’t have a whole lot of black folk in Brigham City so they just take the Gentiles and make them the black folk.

Upon arriving, Theo and I set up an office in the basement of my ex’s big blue house. Theo would walk the kids to school, and at the same time meet neighbors. We learned that’s there’s a park between the house and school that was a real “happening” place. Lindsay Park lay right across the street from Puck’s best friend’s house. Puck had wanted to join the “Pretty Girls” club, headed up by best friend, but first she had to prove herself worthy. Giving best friend money, learning to shoplift, but most of all slipping out of the house at night and meeting with best friend and “big people” in the restroom of Lindsay Park! We unpacked the guns.

Theo was intrigued by the principal’s intense interest in Puck. With a little investigation we discovered he’d been interested in two other little girls over the last year who were removed by CPS, and fostered to rather large families down in Saint George. Same method. Outrageous claims, lots of cops, long petition, both girls members of the Pretty Girls Club, and both, like Puck, were Gentiles! Too many coincidences for Theo.

All the while we were steadily heading for court. Unlike Amy we didn’t talk about corruption, we just recognized organization! All these people were on the same sheet of music, and business was good! Slowly but surely we waded through Puck’s tangled story and arrived at a semblance of truth. Now, you have to understand the thinking of a “RAD.” First off, there is no conscience. Only purpose. If the RAD perceives danger, or thinks they’ve been wronged they simply “fix” the problem. Puck’s favorite remedy is fire. Five of them! One cost Amy two suitcases. They also run away. A lot! They don’t consider the consequences of their actions. For instance Puck told one couple my ex was throwing knives at her and because she wanted to visit a little boy next door a bit longer. And Puck was the CPS’s star witness.

She told Theo and I she’d made up the stories so she could “run the house,” and move in with best friend should she wish. Upon getting a new iPad she flipped and told the principal that she’d lied, but by then it was too late. She couldn’t retract. Utah law! Her new family was already waiting in Saint George.

Why Saint George you ask? It sits conveniently on the Utah/Arizona border. It was Brigham Young’s winter retreat. Far enough away to avoid too much scrutiny, yet still well inside “Deseret.” By this time we had a lawyer. A Temple Worthy lawyer by the way. When in Rome, do as the Romans. He’d been up against this situation many times, and told us there was but one way out. Plead no contest, and most likely they’d only take the girl and leave her four brothers alone. They didn’t want little boys. I guess they leave them for the Catholics.

Well, we rejected this. We instructed him to register a “not guilty” plea, and immediately were informed by the CPS that they could remove any child at any time. It was along about this time we were visited by two young men. Nice white shirts, black slacks, bicycles, you know the drill. But they didn’t want to teach the kids about their church, they wanted to talk to Theo and I in our office alone. They were quite up front about it. They wanted to know what we were up to. We explained the case, and what we were finding at Lindsay Park. They were concerned that we thought the church was at the bottom of this. We explained that no, we didn’t see that. If anything else the reason this situation had prospered was the church’s non-involvement. I told them as “Danites” they should inform their bishop, and perhaps hang out at the park a bit. Of course they gave us that Mormon smile, telling us that Danites were an old church myth. I let the two “church myths” know that they were the first missionaries I’d seen who had no name tags, carried no Book of Mormon.

One good thing came out of that meeting. When those two boys got through with Lindsay Park you couldn’t find a sea gull there! But we still had Alex, the attorney general, and the school principal to contend with. In Utah the CPS draws up the petition, but the office of the attorney general carries the case to court. The no contest dodge gives an open door to the department and sets up the parents for criminal charges should they get out of line and not want to lose their kid. Our plea threw the whole thing into court. Even though we were in their court, it wasn’t written in stone that it was a sure win.

At this point we did two things. First, Puck was on the next flight to Austin to take up treatment at a residential treatment center. I informed my contacts at the Texas CPS as to what was going on, and they located Puck and placed her under their watchful eye. See? Not hidden at all! Of course, Alex Borne hits the ceiling and hung there for a while. After she threatened a bit the second thing we did was introduced her to the Ombudsman from Salt Lake City. That’s a little like throwing a pail of water on the wicked witch. But Alex couldn’t back down at this point. We’d gone for blood, and her own department in Salt Lake City was beginning to cast the stink eye at her for getting so much exposure for a simple kidnapping.

So we all meet in court. The assistant attorney general was seated in the lobby. Theo, lawyer, and I approached her. The lawyer informed her that he was going to exercise the option of having the petition read out loud into the record. The judge, by law, hadn’t read it. Unfortunate the attorney general lady hadn’t either, a clerk having rubber stamped it for her. While she was sitting there looking all official we told her the petition was actually penned by a recent graduate of the local high school, and I read her the last paragraph, which paraphrased said, “I, Alex, being a duly sword employee of the State of Utah, do swear that I believe everything contained in this petition to be true, even those things which are not true, which I believe to be true, also.” I looked at the lady, raised my hands to heaven and said, “Goooooolden Tablets!”

She walked into court with us, and the two CPS workers, who were clueless by the way. The judge asked if the state was ready to proceed, the office of the attorney general rose and said, “The state declines to proceed, your honor.” The gavel came down, we all walked out, and the attorney general lady dragged Alex to a private room. Today children play again in Lindsay Park. All but two. Their skulls were found in the deserts of Arizona and New Mexico.

As we drove home we dropped by and placed the customary bullet on the grave of my ancestor, Orin Porter Rockwell, the king of the Danites.

The Butcher Shop

The post Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Numbers Don’t Lie

Tue, 11/27/2018 - 10:15am

I’m so very glad that Brenda Snipes finally resigned as Broward County’s Supervisor of Elections. Millions of dollars were spent and much time was wasted recounting votes that in no way needed recounting for nothing was found that would change the results of election day…Ron DeSantis is still our next governor and thankfully Andrew Gillum is still not. Rick Scott now gives we Floridians two Republican senators for the first time since Reconstruction and Bill Nelson proved that one can be a crybaby sore loser at any age. But this election did prove one very sad thing…racism…especially when it comes to voting…is alive and flourishing not only here in Florida but across the nation as well.

But…and here’s the key difference…it’s racism by black voters against white candidates not racism by white voters against black candidates.

Let me use my state of Florida as an example and the fact that former President Barack HUSSEIN Obama is actually ground zero for all today’s racially charged political divisiveness here in the Sunshine State. Briefly, it all started on February 26, 2012 when white Hispanic George Zimmerman fatally shot 17-year old black thug Trayvon Martin in self-defense during a physical altercation between the two. Found not guilty of second degree murder by a jury of his peers, Martin’s death saw certain supposed black leaders…racists actually…capitalizing on his death by claiming that “whitey”…especially white police officers…always seems to get away with killing young black men. And when Obama stated on national television that, “If I had a son he’d look like Trayvon,” long healed racial scabs were ripped off to fester once again.

And fester those scabs did what with Obama’s cleverly masked call for revenge and the media’s overt bias against George Zimmerman, leading to the Department of Justice looking into the case for possible civil rights violations. But no racial motive was found for the killing with no additional charges being filed as there was “insufficient evidence” to prove the shooting was racially motivated in any way. And why was no racial motive found…simply because there was none.

The specifics of the Trayvon Martin case can be found all over the internet, but what cannot be found is the truth that Obama’s words and his butting into what should have stayed a local matter first went statewide then national as it set the stage for the infamous “race card” to be used by black what I call “race baiters” every time they don’t get their way politically or if they don’t get enough “free stuff” they feel whites owe them.

And while I am no racist…I judge folks by their character not by the color of their skin…to paraphrase the late Rev. Martin Luther King…it seems some…and note I said some not all…in our nation’s black communities see race as their defining feature. It’s the first thing they think of when waking in the morning and it’s the last thing they think of before going to bed at night. And that is truly sad for that type of thinking spills over into not only their personal and private lives but into the public venue as well, and most especially into today’s volatile political discourse via the all-important voting booth.

And now here is where the actual numbers come in for numbers themselves do not lie for numbers are neither racially motivated nor racially biased…they are what they are…numerical statistics and nothing more.

So let’s start with a few final numbers from specifically Florida’s gubernatorial race between Republican Ron DeSantis and Democrat Andrew Gillum. In the finalized tally after the recount nonsense was over, white candidate, former Congressman Ron DeSantis beat Florida’s first black candidate for governor, Tallahassee Mayor Andrew Gillum by 33,683 votes, as in 4,075,445 to 4,041,762 votes respectively (49.6% to 49.2%). Now while those numbers show a tight race…at least on the surface…let’s break those numbers down even further…as in exit polls showing that 86% of black voters cast ballots for Gillum…a socialist leaning candidate who championed big government, Florida possibly becoming a sanctuary state, and who wanted to raise taxes…while his opponent white Ron DeSantis championed smaller government, lower taxes, and wanting to make Florida even more business friendly than it already is.

So why did a staggering 86% of black Floridians vote for a man who did not have their true best interests at heart…simply…race. The black voters and the black candidate shared not only a skin color but sadly a still to this day prevailing ideology that blacks are “owed” something because of the years they spent as the white man’s slaves…years long gone over a century and a half ago.

And while a number of blacks and white liberals from across the economic spectrum continue trying to claim that race alone was the deciding factor in the Florida’s governor’s race, the fact is that when a white man wins an election over a black man by less that one-half a percentage point, race had nothing to do with it…the black man’s agenda did…an agenda that led 18% of black women registered to vote voting for DeSantis because he supported school vouchers and Gillum did not. And when that black man spewed out words more times than not that tried to cast both Ron DeSantis and we his supporters as racists…it truly got old and got old fast. And remember, liberal whites voted for Gillum as much if not even more so than blacks did, and that Gillum led in the polls after the primary with the governors race only “tightening” when Gillum’s true progressive/socialistic agenda started to really become known. And that agenda had nothing to do with his race but everything to do with his wanting to turn Florida into a Florida we Floridians would no longer recognize…a Florida that would basically be the east coast’s version of Jerry Brown’s failed state of California.

Now back to more indisputable numbers.

Briefly, as per the U.S. Census Bureau, Florida’s population as of September 2018 was 21,312,211 people of which 75.9% are Caucasians (57% plus 18+% Hispanic as Hispanic is not a race), 16.1% are Negroid, 2.6% are Oriental, and 5% are biracial/mixed race. But this article focuses on the white to black ratio alone…as in there are 15,130,748 white Floridians as opposed to 3,216,994 black Floridians…roughly five times as many whites as there are blacks which mirrors Florida’s voting rolls which show whites make up 68% of all registered voters with blacks making up 13%…almost a 5 to 1 ratio again. Yet 86% of that total 13% voted for Gillum, meaning that number alone shows that blacks in Florida, to date, will always vote for the black candidate even if the white candidate is the better choice and has their true interests at heart.

Remember, in 2008, 95% of black voters in Florida voted for Barack Hussein Obama and in 2012, 93% did likewise, yet black employment numbers and black economic numbers in Florida and nationwide stagnated under Obama and did not improve until white Donald Trump became president. In other words, blacks only voted for Obama the first time because they saw him as one of their own, and did so again in 2012 even though they were no better off than before Obama became president. And now in 2018 they voted for a black man…an unabashed liberal black man running in a state that elected white Republican governors in five previous elections…a man who was not only running an Obama-style campaign replete with the same socialist-leaning platform and agenda as Obama’s…a man going after Obama’s favorite progressives and millennials with the same promises of lots and lots of free stuff…but thankfully he failed.

And with 82% of black registered voters being Democrats but with 86% of black Floridians who registered to vote voting for Gillum means that even blacks registered as either as Republicans or NPA’s crossed over and voted for Gillum. And for those black Republicans who crossed over and voted for Gillum it could not be because they favored his socialistic agenda…an agenda which countered everything we Republicans believe in…it could only mean they crossed over because of the color of his skin. Nothing else makes sense, which makes the cry of racism even more ludicrous for Andrew Gillum would never have gotten the numbers he did if white voters had not voted for him.

And with but a very few white Democrats crossing over to vote for Ron DeSantis…because Andrew Gillum’s socialist-leaning Bernie Sanders’ styled agenda fit the Democrats ideology well…it’s the lack of white Democrat crossovers that allowed Andrew Gillum to get the large numbers that he did. Simply, percentage wise more whites voted for Gillum than blacks did for almost 100% of white Democrats voted for him. And this should prove once and for all that race played no part in the election outcome at all, and that it was party turnout alone that was the deciding factor.

So maybe now Andrew Gillum and embattled but now resigning…and hopefully soon prosecuted…Broward County SOE Brenda Snipes will put this racism on the part of white voters against a black candidate nonsense to rest. The cry of racism every time a black candidate loses…and that happens not just here in Florida but nationwide…is like I previously stated earlier getting old and ever so tiring just like the blacks whining that “you owe us” rhetoric is, for the sins of fathers past have no bearing on the children of today. Maybe if that lesson was not only learned but accepted the entire racial issue would be put to rest and only then will the best candidate no matter their skin color win a given election.

Copyright @ 2018 Diane Sori / The Patriot Factor / All Rights Reserved.


For more political commentary please visit my RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS  partner Craig Andresen’s blog The National Patriot to read his latest article Liberals…Unencumbered By Reality



Today, Tuesday, November 27th from 7 to 9pm EST on American Political Radio, RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS  Craig Andresen and Diane Sori discuss ‘Numbers Don’t Lie’; ‘Liberals…Unencumbered By Reality’; and important news of the day.

Hope you can tune in at:…or on Tune-In at:

The post Numbers Don’t Lie appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

It Is Like This It Is Like That

Mon, 11/26/2018 - 11:08am

Thanksgiving was special this year on the border between California and Mexico. In Tijuana families rose, got in their Sunday best, all piled into the SUV, and rushed to the border. They weren’t “migrants.” They weren’t “seeking asylum.” They were seeking a turkey dinner in San Diego with family and friends. But, sorry amigos, it’s tacos today because a few hundred jug-heads from south of YOUR border decided to invite themselves to dinner.

Relations among border people have always been laid back. When I was in El Paso with my first ex-wife, she and her relatives would routinely go to Juarez to shop. The prices were cheaper. And they had a real efficient monetary exchange system. From your hand to theirs. They wouldn’t take a peso on a bet. There was even a Home Depot that served as a training center for prospective wetbacks.

The Mexican attitude is one of acceptance. They view life situations as being, “It is like this, it is like that.” They invented the siesta. The classical image of the Mexican in a chair, leaning against a wall with his sombrero pulled down over his eyes may seem racist, but it’s pretty accurate. That’s why when the “refugees” crashed over their southern border it was no big deal. They knew the gringos would take care of this by and by. Especially El Supremo up in Washington.

All the interlopers have accomplished so far is disrupting Thanksgiving dinner for people who couldn’t give two craps if they come or go. For Mexicans family is a big deal. Dinner, women in the kitchen, yard full of kids, things we Americans forgot about years ago. A week ago I went to Saint Joseph’s Church to get a picture of the garden beside the church. While I was there a crowd of people spilled out. A wedding party. All dressed in traditional Mexican attire. Since I was right there a young girl came over and asked what I was doing. Not in a bad way. She just saw an old gringo taking pictures and was interested. Before I knew it there were three girls, all talking to me. They found out that I was a writer, and I was taking pictures for an article I was producing. They invited me to the fiesta, but I declined, facing a deadline that day. Good thing too because couple of those girls had a high probability of becoming Mrs Witt number seven. Wouldn’t be the first time either. I married a young girl in Mexico back in ’81. That’s why if you wanna dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck ‘cause brothers and sisters, it’s THERE!

So, when your watching Fox News, don’t think that the Mexican people are the enemy. Don’t think that the entire population waits eagerly at the border ready to jump the fence at any given moment. There WERE Mexicans near that fence yesterday in California. Mexican police! Steadily whipping the asses of the foreigners who had stole their turkey dinner with their families a couple days before. And while the American liberal press will make a very big deal about it, the Mexicans just say, “It is like this, it is like that.” Adios amigos!


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Sharon – The Mother of God

Sun, 11/25/2018 - 9:29am
  • “Well, I think that the early earth had a more pleasant climate. Now, I know a lot of scientists would shout me down, but I’m an old preacher so indulge me a little. Anyway, after the fall, even the weather went nuts! Storms, floods, all such things. The Lord Jesus himself told us that in the last days these calamities will multiply, until it’s almost unbearable, and then He’ll come. See, it’s been a growing, and a growing, ever since the fall, whatever that fall may have been. Once, a perfect world, then, a not so perfect one.”
  • “Some folks may tell you the ‘fall’ was man showing up at all.”

“They may be closer to the truth than we know.”

They both got out another burger. Robert went on, “Do you believe in evolution?”

John laughed, “I am a minister of the Baptist faith. You think I believe in evolution?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

“No, I’m a creationist. I believe that God did create the world as it is now.”

Robert never looked up from his hamburger, “I believe in evolution.”


“Uh huh. I believe in evolution.”

“Well, tell me this Reverend Hunter. How do you get up there, and preach from the Bible when you believe in evolution?”

Robert looked straight at John, “I don’t. I sing.”

“You don’t believe that God created everything?”

“I didn’t say that. I believe that God created everything there is, right down to this little hamburger, but I know that he did it HIS way. That’s ’cause he’s God!”



“Well, there had to be a first man, and a first woman. What makes a human being, John.”

“Body, soul. We have a conscience. We are aware of ourselves.”

“That’s right. We love, we hate, we aspire to higher levels of consciousness . In short, we do all the things that we attribute to God. Now the atheist mind says that we put our attributes onto a God that we ourselves have created, but the religious mind says it goes the other way.”

“Just say, for the sake of argument, that God looked down on his good world one day. He looked down and he said, ‘Hey! I think we gonna make man in our own image.’ Now man is down there a scampering around on the ground eating bugs and stuff, and God says, ‘Yeah, let’s make man in our image. Let’s make him stand up tall, and feel good about himself. Let’s make him love his mate, and want to stay around her, not just when he wants to have sex with her. Let’s make him want to be social, and talk to one another. Heck, let’s make him one of us!”

“Now, the devil, or Lucifer as he is then known, well he’s riding pretty high right now. He’s the angel of light and all. God put him right up there on top. He didn’t really have to answer to anybody. Good work if you can get it. Anyway, he says, ‘What? You gonna promote that right on up here with us? Look at that down there. God, that’s a monkey! Ain’t no way!”

“And God says to him, ‘Well, that’s exactly what I’m a gonna do, cause I’m God! And what’s more, when I’m done, man is gonna judge you!”

“Well, ol’ Satan he rears up and says, ‘No! I ain’t gonna bow down to that! I’ll never crawl on my belly to such as that.’ And he talks to what angels will listen to him and runs, quick as he can down to the earth to mess things up.”

“Now, by this time God has already done the change in man. He gave him a soul. That’s all he had to do John, just give him a soul. But you know, right away, you get a soul, you get responsibilities. I mean, just yesterday you could go right ahead and eat one of your cousins, and nobody cared, and now, well now you know its wrong. You

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see, you can’t commit a sin, unless you know it’s a sin. You gotta wanna! Well, it didn’t take the devil long to get man to doing what just come natural. In fact, doing what just come natural was even a little more fun now that it was wrong! Seemed like man had the capacity to enjoy it more than he did yesterday. Soon sin was all over the place, and the world was the mess we find it in at the time of Christ.”

“Then, the devil told God, ‘See, look at that mess! They’re in so deep they don’t know which way is up, and they LOVE it! You still gonna make man in your own image?”

Well God, he knows that man IS in his image. And he knows that the ol’ devil is just taking advantage of what’s left of man’s physical nature to help him on down the road to sin. Cause just knowing about sin makes man sin. He does things now that he never even thought of before he had a soul!

Anyway God tells the devil, “Well, I’ll give you your due, man does appear to be a mite rambunctious, but I still think, given the choice, he’ll always choose the right path. He’d do good if he knew how.’ And the devil said, ‘He ain’t gonna do no good, cause there ain’t no good in him! How you gonna save that monkey, God?”

“Well, God thinks on it for a while, and he comes up with a plan, only he don’t tell the whole plan to the angels. Just a little of it. The devil, he knows God is up to something, ’cause he keeps the prophets a jawing all the time about a suffering servant, and a redeemer, but HE’s got all that under control, ’cause he’s watching real close the nation of Israel, ’cause that’s where this redeemer’s supposed to come from.”

“Finally Jesus comes on the scene. Now, between him, and John the Baptist, the devil ain’t really sure which one if either of these two cousins might be the redeemer. Just to be on the safe side he had John the Baptist locked up, and then he gets him killed. One down, one to go. Then he finds Jesus, a walking forty days in the desert, sorting out his revival, and he jumps up on a rock and he says, “Hey! If you are the Son of God this, and if you are the Son of God that, and Jesus just answers him with scripture, never really getting into a big too do with him about anything.”

“Now, a lot of folks don’t know it, but the devil followed Jesus around all through his earthly ministry trying to trip him up, cause he wasn’t quite sure who he was. This was why the Lord was vague about some of the things he said. Finally ol’ Satan just gets tired of messing with this preacher, and he put Judas up to double crossing him to the Jews, and they get him crucified. But you know what? I believe that the ultimate joke of the entire history of the entire universe was the answer that God gave Satan to his question, ‘How you gonna save that monkey?’ The devil was right there on cavalry looking up at Jesus as he took his last breath, and, as that beautiful soul left that body, and the devil saw that soul face to face, all he could say was, ‘He did it Himself!”

“And Mary’s purpose in this plan?”

“God polished all the people of the world down to a chosen people. Then he trimmed the chosen people down to just two tribes, then he purified them down to one town, then to one little girl. One little girl who was worth being his ma ma.”

“The Mother of God?”

“Don’t tell Pat.”

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CigarBox – Stay Here DreamWalker

Sat, 11/24/2018 - 9:09am

The night was clear and cool a thousand miles from the barn as an old Chevy moved steadily down the gravel road just outside of Memphis. The radio was blaring out the sounds of a local station, complete with scratchy bass, and fading in and out. The driver, intent on being home for Christmas, ignored the exhaustion creeping into his mind. All he could focus on was being home with his little girl that next morning. It had been a big week; big month actually and tonight’s party wound down the events leading up to his older brother’s departure for sea duty. They drank a lot of beer, ate a lot of bar-b-que and now all that was left to do was be home when the little girl opened her presents on Christmas morning. He would be cutting it close, and would arrive most likely as the child rose to greet the biggest day of the year. Sherman Road was like all rural roads in Tennessee in that it wound, and wound like a snake through the trees; a snake with a bite for the unwary traveler who didn’t pay attention to its winding ways. Its rough gravel complained beneath the tires as the car lumbered on through the darkness. The head lights frequently glaring off into nothingness, causing the driver to slow down and check out the turn. Then the road seemed to go straight for a little while, so he picked up speed. Any time he could gain would be valuable. He simply could not let the little girl get out of bed and he was not there. Then, suddenly the form of an old man, with long gray hair with black streaks ambled across the road with a stick in his hand appeared before his lights. Stopping in the middle of the road, the old man stood there, and stared at him as if he didn’t care if the car struck him or not. The driver swerved to miss the old man, and the car lost its grip on the loose gravel, plunged through an intersection and through a fence surrounding a local equipment rental business, coming to rest against a telephone pole. His head smashed against the windshield, and he lost consciousness amid the blare of the radio, and the hissing of the escaping steam from the radiator. The old man who had been walking across the road came over to inspect the car. Looking inside at the unconscious driver, he reached into a bag slung across his shoulder and retrieved some sand. Taking one of the driver’s hands, and then the other he placed the sand into them. Bending over he whispered into his ear, “You are now Dreamwalker. You stay here! Someone is coming. You will be my eyes, my ears, and my will. You will see that my will is carried out. And you will not leave this place until I tell you to go. Your soul is bound by my magic, and by my will. The driver’s hands clenched the sand. The old man stepped back, inspected his handiwork, turned and walked down Sherman Road, disappearing into the darkness.

It was hours before they found the driver, and by then the injury to the brain was too massive to be reversed. Paramedics noticed that his hands were clenched tightly, but didn’t bother about it because of all the other injuries he had suffered that night.

His mother was summoned to the hospital and was told of the condition of her son. She was a simple woman of good Baptist roots who didn’t want to hear that her son was gone, but the body was still here. It was like some macabre scene from an old horror movie. A true night of the living dead. The doctors explained in detail how the brain stem had been damaged, but she took that to mean that he was still “there” but just couldn’t communicate with anyone. Then, one of the doctors took the breather off the man in the bed.

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“See?” he reasoned, “He doesn’t breath without the respirator. The brain stem no longer has the capacity to demand oxygen. There’s nothing left. Let me explain it this way, the brain, as you know it, can actually be dead, and yet this area beneath that we know as the stem will still make the reflex actions work. Breathing is one of these actions. You son’s brain stem no longer works. Your son is dead. I’m sorry.”

“Could I be alone with him a moment?”
The doctors all nodded and left the room. She pulled a chair over to the bed and looked at her son. All the promise, and all the hope was still there for her, but the doctors said that it was gone. She wasn’t a great theologian. She was a simple woman from Tennessee who believed that a person was alive until their heart stopped beating. The doctors thought differently though, and after all, she was just one old woman from Tennessee. Her family, such as it was, sat outside in the hallway without the intelligence or conviction to even come into the room. It had been this way all of her life. Ever since she was a little girl she’d had choices put on her that no one wanted, and this was just one more.

“Mike,” she began, “I know you can hear me, son. I can’t do nothing about this. They say you ain’t here.
Inside I know you are, but I don’t know if even you would want to stay here like this. They told me that you are paralyzed now and that you’ll never be the same. They even told me that you would be an idiot if you ever come out of this. Son, I’m gonna have to let you go. I’m gonna do it, ‘cause I’m the only one with the strength to do it. It’s better to be with our Lord than to be here like this. I know you’ll understand. Please forgive me, son. I gotta do what I gotta do.”

She looked up at the ceiling but her eyes peered beyond it, and into the heavens beyond human sight, or understanding. “Lord, let this sin be upon me, and not my other children or my husband. I do this on my own. Lord, please take my Mike to your bosom and take care of him ‘till we all get there. He’s a good boy, Lord, and I know he’d done a bit of drinking, but that don’t make him bad. You use my boy Lord, and I think you’ll see that he has a use. He’ll come in right handy if you let him. He’s got a quick mind, Lord, and I’m sure that you’ll find something for him to do that he can make you proud of.”

She got up and went to open the door. “I think ya’ll need to come in and say good bye to your brother now.”

One by one, the brothers and sisters filed in and talked to the unconscious man. Each one had some heart felt statement to tell him, and none of them could tell if he could hear them. All except Claudette, a thin girl with a persistent pained look on her face. She stood there with her husband, Ed; a fat man with a red face who breathed in short labored gasps. As each person leaned over she watched her brother lying on the bed, but she would not draw near to him, when just then she thought she noticed something.

“His hand moved!”


They all looked intently at the man’s hands, but could not discern any movement. The hands were still clenched just as they had been since the ambulance brought him in that morning.

“It did move. I saw it,” she insisted.

Claudette was a tall, Tennessee woman who only owned two dresses and about five pairs of jeans. Her black, stringy hair hung unkempt to her shoulders, and her teeth needed work. To be honest she was the mirror image of her mother at her age, but she had other issues her mother did not have. Dyslexia clouded her reason and in this back woods community that was equal to retardation. Her mother had been glad to see her married, even to Ed, because an “idiot girl” was hard to marry off. Back in school she’d been given to fits, and fainting, and the family had grown used to her outbursts.

“Nervous reaction, that’s all,” one of the attending doctors said. “His hands are still as they have been all along. The reaction has given his hands that grip you see.”

Claudette looked back at her brother lying in the bed. She could sense a struggle going on within him. He was trying to open his hands; she saw it! He was trying to show everyone in the room something that was in his hands as if that had something to do with his condition. It was then she realized that he could hear her! He could! “Mike, I ain’t no part of this. You know that! I saw it!” She looked at the people in the room, “You do this and I’m leaving. I’m leaving forever, and I ain’t ever coming back here to this trash!”

Her red-faced husband told her, “Just pipe down Claudette! No body wants to hear your retarded nonsense today.”

She turned on him, “I put up with you all these years. Had two boys by you, and all you can do is make fun of me. Well, if you’re a part of this I’m gonna put you in the pot with the rest of them. I’ll just leave you here with them!”

The fat man shrugged his shoulders and looked at the others, “Hey, ya’ll know how she is. Heck, she can’t even read! Just a retard, that’s all.”

Claudette leaned over, kissed her brother, and left the room. One by one they all left and the old woman was finally alone with one doctor in the room.

“She said he moved. You sure there ain’t nothing can be done?”

The doctor looked at his feet. “The man is brain dead. What your daughter saw was a nervous reaction. His hands have been clenched like that since they brought him in. It doesn’t mean anything. Only that the brain is damaged. He can go on like this for years. You don’t need to put yourself, or your family through this.”

“All that drinking. That’s what done it. Partying all them nights, but he never hurt nobody. He always made people laugh. You would have loved him. He learned to walk on stilts, and ride one of them one- wheeled bicycles just to make us all laugh. Will he suffer?”

“No ma’am. He’s already gone. He doesn’t know anything right now.”

The old woman sadly shook her head, “Yeah he does, Doc. Yeah he does.” She looked one last time at her son and said, “Just do it.”

The doctor leaned over and disconnected the life support, and as he did the man’s hands unclenched, letting a small bit of sand fall to the hospital floor.

Sharon – #METOO

The Man Under Authority


The Party Line

The Son Of Man

White Folks

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White Folks

Fri, 11/23/2018 - 9:58am

Why, you may ask, have I suddenly doubled down on a religious slant when the Butcher Shop is primarily a political publication? There seems to be little connection between the two. Actually, there is a great connection. Be you theist, atheist, or just a “reptile bait” such as I, every human being has that “God Hole” I go on about. You can’t get around it. You are born with it. No matter what your belief is, religion plays a large part in your life game plan.

There is something larger here. No matter if you subscribe to the idea of a great reckoning of earthly and cosmic forces, or just watch the news reports with increasing alarm, you must admit that civilization as we know it is at a crossroads. And it is a political crossroads driven by religiosity. There are interests out there that wish to impose their will upon the world, and there is a certain strain of civilization that instinctively resists this. There are Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Satanists, Mexicans, Chinese, and little groups out in the bush that have one thing in common. They say one group has dominated history, enslaved practically all other sects, and perhaps the world would be better without it. Officially it’s known as Western Civilization. I simply call it “The White Folks.”

And the White Folks are a minority. Except perhaps for Mormons, The White Folks do not tend to churn out babies with the same veracity as the Brown, or Black Folks. Maybe their girls are prettier, I don’t know, but the final tally says that there are more of them than us. Oh, by the way, I am a White Folk.

The rise of Western Civilization did indeed make history take a white turn. While the counter culture scrambles to piece together it’s history, The White Folks simply point to the Coliseum or the Parthenon. I feel it interesting to note that these buildings are white.

All races have a right to be proud of their heritage, and achievements. All races have a right to exist in harmony with all other races. Viva La Differáuce! That having been said, we have digressed to the point where some of you are shocked by my very use of the term “White Folks.” This is because we have now been conditioned to automatically assume that all things white are bad.

We crackers are a peculiar lot, I’ll give you that, but allow me to submit that exposure to us generally uplifts other groups, rather than brings them down. When the Romans invaded Britain (and they were white folks, too) the Druids lost their rabbit-assed minds! They waged war until they were wiped out to the point that you can’t find a Druid grocery list now. They totally ignored the aqueducts, roads, buildings, and pretty Roman girls scurrying about. The same with Israel. Israel INVITED Rome in to stay off the Greeks, who were steadily eating their Kosher lunch. The Romans stayed, wanted to get naked in baths, drink wine, and the JEWS lost THEIR rabbit-assed minds. Are you beginning to see a pattern here.

Now White Folks will jump on White Folks. We’re really not all that racist when you get right down to it. But when you get brown folks involved, such as what’s going on down at the border right now, we get plumb stupid! See how I just tied that issue with the Roman domination of Israel? Swat them bees!

The number one reason President Trump takes so many hits in the media is that above all politics, he is a White Folk! If I were to compare Whoopi Goldberg’s hairstyle to the creature in the movie “Predator” you’d lose YOUR rabbit-assed mind, but she can call the President an orange headed idiot just any time she wants. But then, Whoopi simply can’t be a racist. She’s black!

And White Folks are their own worse enemy! Hey! I ain’t even gonna lie to you. We are. From feeding little black kids in Ethiopia to getting shoes for white trash kids in Alabama, we’ll run with any cause. We got six hundred and fifty thousand of us killed just ending slavery. Now, you show me any other civilization that ever did that!

This isn’t going to change overnight. This world view is entrenched. The last three presidential elections were drawn along racial lines, and if you don’t believe that have I got a wall for you, and it’s on sale! Do you want to know what Hillary’s real draw was? With the two term restriction on the office of the president there was an unspoken hope that if she won, somehow, someway, Obama, or at least his policies would still be in the White House. I’m surprised that Hillary didn’t show up for the debates in dreadlocks! And you know I’m right, don’t be jellyfish about it. I’m just the one that says it out loud.

Love. That’s the key. You gotta love, and appreciate all people. Revel in their culture, beliefs, and ideas, but demand they return the favor. Do I think the Flavians devised a white Messiah to confound the Jews? It’s quite possible. Look at the classical image of Jesus. Flavius Titus Caesar with a Mick Jagger haircut. You gotta admit, that’s pretty cool. But love is the answer. I love all people. I’ve been married six times. One Jew, a Mexican, one half black/half Arapaho, even a couple white chicks. You can’t spread the love any more than that!

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The Son Of Man

Thu, 11/22/2018 - 3:07pm

Verily I say unto you, There be some standing here, which shall not taste of death, till they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom.

The origins of the Gospels and Christianity have been debated for two thousand years. I’ve watched many lectures by believers and nonbelievers over time, going into great depth trying to substantiate their positions by reason, very rarely producing empirical proof. The pious trying to justify the accuracy of the New Testament by citing the sheer volume of copies over the centuries, while admitting the original autographs have long ago crumbled into dust. The atheist tries again and again to prove the negative by stacking “evidence” against something they claim does not even exist.

Questions must be asked. These questions arise in any thinking mind, from a small child to the scholar. The child will ask if God is everywhere then why must we confide our shortcomings to a priest? The scholar wonders why, if the followers of Jesus were devout Jews, is the New Testament written in Greek? Ignoring these questions will not make them go away.

The Messianic movement in the first century was not what most Christians imagine it to have been. Israel was occupied. Rome had crushed it under an iron heel, much as the Syrians, and Persians had done before. In fact, in spite of all the Biblical stories of King David, Israel historically was a doormat for empires on their way to someplace else.

The story of Jesus stands in stark contrast to the rock throwing, sword swinging Messiah alluded to in the Old Testament, and expected by the Jews. Jesus was the benchmark of pacification, compromise, and cooperation . . . with the Romans. When a statue of Caesar arrived to be placed inside the Temple grounds the Jews lost their minds, yet we’re told that Jesus simply took a coin with the image on it, and told His followers to simply pay their taxes.

The death of Jesus was not inflicted by Pilate, but the Jews, or so we’re told, and Jesus was quite civilized while discussing the case before the Roman soldier. Pilate is displayed as a virtual diplomat, wringing, and then washing his hands, trying to reason with a howling mob led by a flock of religious nuts in funny hats. In the end Jesus is sentenced and Pilate says “Fratres non im,” which is Latin for, “I ain’t wid these brothers!”

So, Jesus is executed, and as you may have read, rose three days after His death. The Roman guard watching over the tomb failed to do so, but the High Priest struck a deal with them, concocting a story about some bunch of ragamuffins stealing the body during the night while they were indisposed. I’d like to point out to you that the Romans had a very effective way of dealing with dereliction of duty. They’d pull out one out of every ten soldiers and kill ‘em! It was called decimation, and it was an attention getter.

From this point forward, according to the Book of Acts, Paul of Tarsus traveled hither and yon after having a quite schizophrenic episode on the road to Damascus. Accordingly, the first writings we’re told that reference the new branch of Judaism comes from his letters beginning about thirty years or so after the death of Jesus. Then, of course, come the Gospels. Lots of Gospels. Aside from the approved four, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, there are scores of knockoffs. This is quite normal. Ask yourself how many films sprung from the original Star Wars apart from the LucasFilm version that set the whole thing in motion? Everybody wants to get next to a happening guy.

Jump forward to 325 AD and the Council of Nicaea, under license by the Emperor Constantine, approves the official version of the brand, calls it the Roman Catholic Church, the known world broke out in Hail Marys, and called it a millennium!

Let’s examine this phenomenon from a different angle. As far as buying into this, you don’t need a penny just to hang around, but if you’ve got a nickel won’t you lay your money down. What you looking at? Pat Robertson does it all the time. During the war on the Jews from about 67AD to 70AD Flavius Titus came upon a quite handy little traitor named Josephus. He was a Jewish rebel who was captured, but before Titus could tack him up he talked him out of it by telling the Roman General that he was going to be the emperor of Rome some day. Hitler used this same trick on Lord Chamberlin, sending him back to London with flowers in his hair babbling something about, “Peace in our time.” From this point forward Josephus advised, translated for and encouraged Titus, selling out his compadres quite readily, and ending up getting his name changed to Flavius Josephus. He followed the money. Hey, I mean, he WAS a Jew, right?

Returning to Rome, Josephus wrote his best seller. Emperor Vespasian still had a problem. Even though he’d handed Israel its butt, funny hat, and all its goats, they still didn’t buy into the “Devine” emperor thing. The people didn’t even like Roman money. Because it had the Emperor’s picture on it. Good luck getting them to pray to statues.

When the Temple was sacked everything was burned. Not one stone left upon the other, and brothers and sisters, they done it good. NoBODY wanted to be that tenth guy! I don’t know how they got around that Wailing Wall thing, but that’s none of my business. Titus brought home one copy of the writings found in the Temple, and he locked it up, until Josephus explained what was written. Now, Emperor Vespasian still had rock throwing fanatics out in the desert, waiting for the Messiah, not bowing to the statue of the newly inaugurated emperor. What to do?

Reading, and comparing the scrolls he’d come back with, comparing them with Josephus’ history of the Jews, Titus and the Flavius family went into the publishing business. This won’t be the last time this tactic is employed. (What Happened?) Drawing from the scrolls, Josephus’ own writings, some good ol’ Roman hoo do and a little typology, a lost art of using events from the past to provide form and context for subsequent ones, a viable history emerged. Viable, not necessarily spot on. A kinder, gentler Messiah. A Messiah who didn’t mind the Romans, would turn the other cheek. A Messiah to bring peace, love, and even a glass of wine. Pax Romana! Make Rome Great Again. Then Paul leaps on the scene saying this is the new age solution for everyone, and runs off to Rome to Get himself killed. Flavius flavored Judaism! Such a deal!

The simple fact is that if you lay the New Testament and Josephus’ work side by side, and you are a Christian, you’re gonna get your feelings hurt. It’s called “apologetics.” The fact is, the comparisons are there. And not just a handful. Over forty of them! The Gospel mirrors the Flavius campaign in Israel in almost perfect sequence with parallel names, locations, and concepts. It’s slippery, but it’s there!

During the Olivet Discourse Jesus proclaims that the Temple will be razed, not one stone resting upon another, the Son of Man’s coming would coincide with these events within the current generation. A Generation for these people was forty years. If you believe that Jesus uttered these predictions in around 33AD, and understand the Temple was destroyed in 70AD, that’s one hell of a prophesy. Unless it wasn’t a prophesy at all, but a clever back dated scriptural hot check from Jesus courtesy of Flavius Josephus!

The new religion set the Mediterranean world on fire. There were so many spin-offs the Romans didn’t have enough wood to nail up all the believers in a generic version. It had grown so out of control by 325 that Constantine had to call that meeting in Nicaea or lose his butt, olive branch and all HIS cattle. And he did! He brought the copyright back to the original intent of his ancestor Titus.

Titus had to control the Middle East. He used an idea instead of a sword. Once the idea was planted it spread, a bit out of control, which had to be defined later, but it did spread. Constantine would even send his mother to identify sites where all these New Testament events supposedly happened. You must understand that was a little like looking for a lost diamond ring in Mexico. She got what she paid for.

She became a saint, which is not surprising since the first Saint was one of Titus’s relatives, Flavia Domitilla who was honored for donating the land for the first Christian catacombs. You thought those were places for Christians to hide, huh? They were tombs, well known, and strategically placed. Oh, there were persecutions. For heretics, violent Messiah believers, Gnostics, and anyone else who didn’t eat Flavion flavored Christianity.

But how do you get people to worship the emperor as God? Watch this. Nothing up my sleeves. After Vespasian died, his son, Titus, approached the senate petitioning them to designate his father as “divine.” You couldn’t become divine all by yourself, you had to be voted in. It’s somewhat the same way the Catholic Church designates a saint today. Funny hats and all. Your good life is not good enough. There has to be a roll call vote. By recounting all the things his father had done, Titus did convince the Senate, and the late, great Vespasian was elevated to divinity, which, as you can very easily see, made Titus the “son” of God. As the Greek and Roman adherents added up and the Gospels began to spread, the predictions allegedly made some forty years before the events of 70 AD were understood to be literally true, and that put the seal on the four “approved” Gospels. The Son of Man did indeed come. He did indeed destroy the Temple. He really did make his followers “fishers of men” when Roman soldiers literally used their spears to pluck rebellious Jews from the water after burning their ships. He did indeed cause people to flee into the mountains. Then he returned to Rome and became emperor. His name was Flavius Titus Caesar! Son of God and Son of Man. Titus had tricked the people into praying to him by proxie!

It doesn’t matter if you believe this explanation or not. What matters is that there is a possibility that the Flavians used it it to pacify and control the population. Christianity, as a whole was, and is a good idea so long as you hold to the concepts on a personal basis. Jesus said, “The Kingdom of God is within you. Not within your neighbor, not within a church, YOU! The problems arise when people move past the allegory, and begin to literally impose THEIR idea of that Kingdom on someone else.

Governments still use Christianity as a prod. Don’t think so? Fundamentalists pray daily for World War III so it will usher in Armageddon, the end of the age, and heavenly rule. So, support Israel. Mormon kids traverse the globe evangelizing the beliefs of a farm boy who devised his own “Bible” from a rock in a hat. (And you think the Flavians couldn’t come up with the New Testament?) Almost a thousand people followed a crazy man into the jungles of South America to drink poison, and faith healers rob people nightly, protected by their first amendment right to barf up any nonsense their audience will buy, and buy they do.

I’m not trying to change your stripes. If you like your God, you can keep your God. Religious beliefs are deeply ingrained into the human psyche. My hand shook a little during the writing of this article. When I was five years old my grandmother in Shreveport would take me down to the Baptist church, sit me right up there in the Amen pew, and a preacher would scream, telling me that I was going to “hayell!” I was scared of Jesus until I was thirty years old. You see? That’s what’s wrong with trying to farm your religion out to other people.

We, as a race, are evolving morally and spiritually. As we learn to accept concepts alien to us we understand that different doesn’t necessarily mean bad. We also must accept that there will never be one faith, one government, one consensus. There will always be an opposing voice, but you don’t have to silence that voice. Indeed, it’s impossible. They’ll just bury their ideas in clay jars, and in two thousand years the debate will begin anew.

No one will ever win a religious debate. Even the formidable Christopher Hitchens could not prove the absence of God. My belief is it had to begin somewhere. Someone, or something had to strike the match. Creation. For all of man’s technology he still cannot create a leaf. An open mind is good to have. You won’t eat as much crow that way. Is there truth in the New Testament? You betcha! Know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

The Butcher Shop

The post The Son Of Man appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


Wed, 11/21/2018 - 3:07pm

Thanksgiving is a family time. We need not only reflect on the blessings that we should be thankful for, but also those who’ve shared those blessings with us. This is an older article, but it fits the season, which is really all about kids. Let’s face it. Somewhere around thirty or so the magic of the holidays gets away from most of us. Paying bills, working, the break sometimes even gets in the way, and we become guilty not plodding along on that treadmill. But kids, and especially grandkids? Well, they ain’t there yet. Ever wonder why the best holidays are around the end of the year? Because back in the day the crops were in and everyone was gathered around the fireplace. I give you GRANDPEOPLE!

Grandchildren can be a very fulfilling part of your life. Their joy, playfulness, and love fills your autumn years, so why is it so stressful? Where do they find the capacity to inflict insanity in an otherwise docile old person? I have come up with some things that run you to the edge. If you’re a grandparent you will recognize them all.


Repeat, repeat, repeat. . .
Two year olds are just figuring out language. There is a lot of baby talk, but they are becoming aware of the importance that communication plays in their lives. Two issues; they still talk 80% baby talk, and they don’t think YOU understand anything so every statement or request is verbally Xeroxed. Ishiguro wanna anny What? Ishiguro wanna anny What? ISHIGURO WANNA ANNY! NO! No is the only answer you can give in a situation like this. This doesn’t stop the inquiry, however. It will continue for maybe eight hours.


So and so is doing this or that to me
Always remember that you are the high court. As such you have to hear all complaints from all grand people against all other grand people. There is only one designation. Class A felony. There is no pardon, no parole, and no appeal. The accuser wants justice they can watch, which is high entertainment. After justice is administered you can expect counter charges.


Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.
You must give children water, there are laws. When you give five grandchildren water it is no less than Moses parting the Red Sea. There are three options: Option A) Give one big drink for them to pass around. Are you a fool you ask? What about germs? Forget about germs, they’re already sharing them. They eat dog poop! No measured amount is ever fair. “SHARE, SHARE, SHARE,” you will scream until you choke, but possession is 100% of the law in the grand people civil code. Grab, drink, drink, drink as fast as you can, can’t touch me, I’m Aqua-Man! This has all the others spinning and crying. B) Separate drinks for all. Give them only clear water, and put them in a room that you intend to shampoo. C) Give up in disgust and throw the water into the back yard.


I go potty.
They crap ALL the time. When one goes they all immediately feel the urge and the simple logic that only one person can only sit on a toilette at one time does not play into it. This invariably elicits screams from the bathroom. I hate the sound of the word, “Paaaaa Paaaaaa!” A bath used by grandchildren cannot have soaps, toilette paper, water, rugs, or towels in it. These things are provided as needed. Also try not to have small kittens around. They fit into a commode. I know!


I pooped myself.
In time you will learn to appreciate the smell, and texture of crap. It’s sort of like learning to eat Sushi. You know it’s actually stupid, but everyone does it. Yeah, just think about it. You’re worried about a shared water glass between siblings, yet eat raw fish with worms in it. Don’t tell me you haven’t Googled that! A two year old in potty training is like running a blender with the lid off, if you can picture the lid being on the bottom. Sometimes they will make it, but these times are not so numerous that reliable statistics can be drawn. And I have read all the methods used to potty train. Ignore these. These people are all liars. What will happen is one day you’ll just notice they use the toilette, and you will never know how you did it. Until that day you had just better accept that for the time being your life is crap.


OMG! Never, NEVER seat grand people within striking distance of each other at meal time. Throwing a bone into a dog pound makes more sense. And forget about equal portions. A Crack Dealer with a postal scale cannot measure meals with the accuracy required to satisfy these people. And don’t give them water! Do that later. My granddaughter, Puck, is a diabetic so she gets the “unfair” plate. She has developed a lizard’s tongue, and can snap a potato from a sibling’s plate at two yards.


Nap time.
There is no hope. They only sleep when they knock each other out. YOU will fall asleep before they do. May God have mercy on you if this happens. My twins can remove a full sized door and pull down a ceiling fan if given just a little uninterrupted time. When you wake you will not believe. The solution? Handcuffs. Eventually the parents will show up. They have to. That’s the law. They may ask you if you’re doing anything that night. LIE! Then they have to take the grand people with them, and you can then tell everyone how wonderful it is to have grandchildren.


Control what they see and listen to on YouTube!

I say YouTube because that’s where the juicy stuff is. And it can be anything. My grandkids live in Mormonville, Utah. Mormon kids are so sweet. They say, “Yes ma’am,” and “Mother may I,” and never pee off the porch. Well, MY grandpeople are from downtown central Texas! They will fry up your cat if they can find enough jalapeños to season it. They also have iPads, iPhones, and the best internet connection money can buy. Hence YouTube.

Now most of the time it’s channels like “The Bright Side,” or at least that’s what they want YOU to see. When you’re not watching it’s straight to Californication. Now these little fellas aren’t into porn, or anything like that, but they sure are into Rap! They don’t completely understand the meaning of some of the words, such as “Riding Dirty.” Their grandmother convinced them that they could be arrested for not cleaning the car. Don’t knock it. It worked!

So, my two eight year old twins find themselves in the Boys’ and Girls’ Club playground among the shiny clean Mormon kids in their Sunday best. At the top of the slide is a girl about their age, frozen stiff at the prospect of going over the top. The twin directly below her is trying to push her by the butt up the ladder. After a minute the twin below him starts rapping. “Move BITCH! Git out da way! Git out da way, BITCH, git out da way!” The other twin joins in, and one of the little girl’s mothers ran over to save her.

Speaking of little girls, they’re all ladies men. Coming out of the club one day they got unto the van and NewBaby told me there was a new girl in the club. “Papa, she was so pretty the twins were flipping backwards. She said she was in the third grade, but she looked like she was in the SECOND!

And the granddaughter, Puck? Give me a break! She comes downstairs one morning with a sleeveless blouse, not that there’s anything to be sleeveless about. Her hair spiked strait up, with the tips stained with India Ink, mascara on making her look like a raccoon, leotards and a tutu. And she was ready to trot off to school with Joseph Smith’s finest! If the boys at the “Holier Than Thou” elementary school had seen that they’d have remembered it when they were eighty years old, and in their minds she would have never aged.

The Butcher Shop

The post GrandPeople appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Four Weeks from Oblivion, GOP Congress Slumbers On

Wed, 11/21/2018 - 12:14pm

The session of Congress that occurs after the just–completed election and the swearing in of the new Congress in January is called a lame duck session. It will last four weeks.

RJ Matson CQ Roll Call

These are the last weeks Republicans will be in control of both houses of Congress and the White House. This was supposed to be a golden age of conservative accomplishment. In reality, it was two more years of the Can’t–Do Caucus telling voters what they promised on the campaign trail at home, can’t be done in DC.

Next year the charade will be over, because the left will control the House.

This brief session will constitute another Gohmert Moment, which I’ve named after Louie Gohmert, the genuine Texas conservative congressman.

When Gohmert first entered Congress he and other freshmen were excited about the prospect of passing truly conservative legislation. That was before he met the timid, country club conservatives who comprise House leadership.

Gohmert explained at his first GOP House conference the leadership’s caretaker conservatives were worried. They acknowledged the campaign has promised big things. But in Washington there was “a small chance” Republicans might lose the majority in two years. To play it safe, leadership wanted to do small things, win the election and keep the majority.

Then, leadership promised it would be time to do big things.

Gohmert disagreed, “If there’s any chance we might lose, then this is the time to do the big stuff.” Gohmert was ignored. He’s been ignored ever since.

Rachel Bovard, of the Conservative Partnership Institute, reminds us of what could be done if our placeholder GOP believed in the issues on which it campaigned.

Bovard suggests this last GOP Congress, “take a cue from the Democrats’ playbook in 2010. Like present-day Republicans, House Democrats were then about to lose their majority. Republicans, like now, were expanding their majority in the Senate. But in the face of waning power, Democrats did not fold. They fought.”

The left focused on Cultural Marxism and one foreign policy initiative. The Cultural Marxist hot buttons appealed solely to left’s base — a concept as foreign to GOP leadership as quantum physics is to a cat. The goal was repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” so homosexuals in the military could go ahead and flaunt it, and pass the DREAM Act, an amnesty for younger illegal aliens. The foreign policy initiative was the NEW START nuclear arms treaty. Sure to rev up any surviving ‘Ban the Bomb’ marchers from the 60’s.

Bovard explains, “Democrats intentionally chose to aggressively move forward on controversial legislation on which they had previously punted — likely driven by the fact that they were not sure when they’d again control both houses of Congress and the White House.”

The left was successful on two out of three. Only the DREAM Act failed.

If our conservatives–in–name–only Republicans followed that successful template, top legislative priorities during this lame duck session would be terminating the funding of the organ harvesters at Planned Parenthood; pulling the plug on PBS, NPR, NEA and NEH; fully funding President Trump’s border wall, and reforming immigration law by ending the anchor baby and asylum scams.

Then conservatives would miss them when they were gone.

William Galston, a former advisor to Bill Clinton, said Democrats were successful because, “They were prepared to pull out all the stops.”

Unfortunately, today’s conservative “stop” is Curator of the Senate Mitch McConnell, who follows an extra–Constitutional policy of requiring 60 votes to pass legislation in the Senate, while a simple majority works fine in the House.

And what are the curator’s priorities for the lame duck session? The Hill reports Mitch wants to pass a criminal justice “reform” bill, a pork–laden Agriculture bill, a foreign aid measure and ratify judicial nominations — a routine task in any other Congress but an activity for which this pack of seat–warmers expects fulsome praise.

Do you see any correlation between what the conservative base wants passed and what the housebroken conservatives intend to pass? It’s no wonder many conservatives were guided to the polls by muscle memory rather than enthusiasm.

Evidently lame duck is a dish that can only be prepared by leftist chefs.

As these dissemblers stagger toward the finish line of this Congress, I feel much like Oliver Cromwell did in 1653 when he dismissed the equally wretched Long Parliament:

“It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonored by your contempt of all virtue, …[you are] enemies to all good government; ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money.

“In the name of God, go!”

The post Four Weeks from Oblivion, GOP Congress Slumbers On appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The Party Line

Tue, 11/20/2018 - 10:09am

If you are going to survive intellectually you simply must diverse yourself of the Facebook party line that seems to dominate modern philosophy in our present time. I once saw a reflection posted on Facebook which read, “Remember the time when we used to take a picture of our breakfast, run down to the drug store to have it developed, got one hundred copies, and distributed them to friends and family, asking them if they liked it? Neither to I. So STOP it!”

This demonstrates two things. The emergence of a meaningless practice, and the fact that I had to go to Facebook to learn about it. I recently watched a two hour debate between Christopher Hitchens, and a Professor of Theology. It was held in California, at a university basketball stadium that was filled with students eagerly hanging upon every word. In six short years the new students will most likely be posting pictures of burritos on Facebook, and lamenting the loss of Hillary Clinton in 2016.

This is because it is far easier to eat a convenience store burrito than to fashion a full meal at home and eat it in a civilized fashion. The analytical mind has been reduced to a “status” requiring no more thought than a pick up line at a local bar. You see this in the street demonstrations by young people today. When confronted by journalists, asking simple questions, University students give the most surprising answers. At the University of Texas, for example, when told that President Obama had signed an executive order nullifying the Bill of Rights, they overwhelmingly agreed that the Bill of Rights was outdated, and it was time to move on. This group also believed that Dr. Martin Luther King freed the slaves, and that Sodom and Gomorrah were married!

Now, I’m not saying Facebook is the sole reason for this non-reason. Lots of factors figure into this equation. What I am saying is that Facebook has become the new religion of the millennialist, and Mark Zuckerberg has become the high priest. The sign of our times is the appearance of the CEO of what is basically a dating/gossip website appearing before congress to explain himself, and the congress is too dumbed down to debate him.

Facebook plays to the reptilian part of the brain. It is easier to think, “Ugh, food,” than to consider, “I don’t like the taco sauce, I think I’ll have the queso.” And while we’re groveling around our cage, Pope Zuckerberg looms outside, throwing us bananas with Facebook jail/hell at the ready in case someone should use too many four syllable words to differ with the opinions of other monkeys in the cage. God forbid we should throw feces outside the cage.

When I was a child in Shreveport, Louisiana, we had a party line on our telephone. Now, in and of itself, the telephone back then was an awkward contraption. First off it was heavy. It usually sat on a table, right on top of a “telephone book,” used to find phone numbers, but used in the swamps as toilet paper, because the only phone in that area was down at the general store. If you were very special you had a private line i.e. when you made a call, you, and whomever you called, were the only ones on the line, as opposed to the party line where up to four homes shared the same common wire, and at any time any one of those people could quietly pick up their phone, and listen in. Being aware of this possibility curtailed phone sex in those days. Nowadays our cell phones are mostly private, if you discount the NSA.

Facebook is a modern party line! The only difference is that everybody knows it, agrees with the “terms of service,” and feeds into it. The social media platform originally started in a college as a method to trade pictures of people, hence the term FACEbook. This is not too far from placing a small mirror on the ground, and waiting for a girl in a dress to walk up. Of course now that the medium has evolved beyond all reasonable control, Mark Zuckerberg has come down from the mountain with his own version of the Ten Commandments. He also controls the Facebook Talmud which continually updates to “bring you a ‘better’ Facebook experience.” Just lay back, and enjoy it.

While a sizable number of people use the Internet as a research resource, it cannot compare with the minions gathered worshipping, and praising the golden calf. The Facebook mentality has become the norm, but there are signs of a great schism beginning to show as the users age out and experience life where Facebook has no logical place. My own grandchildren, for instance, would rather watch “The Bright Side” on YouTube, than look at a picture of a hamburger on Facebook. This is the “Z” generation, who have witnessed the social shortcomings of MySpace, AOL, Prodigy, and soon Facebook, and are not impressed. The millennials are even beginning to think of it as an “old people’s” site for talking about stiff joints, and grandkids.

The intellectual growth, a natural thing will occur. Facebook will not be able to keep up. It has no intellectual foundation. Consider this. If you want to actually want to read about a subject, do you search Facebook, or do you end up on Wikipedia? Well, there you go! Facebook has never progressed past the original party line designed to look up pretty girls’ dresses. So STOP it!

The Butcher Shop

The post The Party Line appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Votes Manufactured Not Found

Tue, 11/20/2018 - 9:00am

Disclaimer: The opinions below are mine alone…the numbers cited are taken directly from the Broward SOE website on the dates I wrote this report.

By now most of my blog readers and those on social media know that I am from South Florida…the infamous Broward county to be exact and that she who was then Obama’s and who now is Nancy Pelosi’s little lapdog Debbie Wasserman Schultz is my Congresswoman. But most also know that for years I have fought tooth and nail for Republican candidates and for fair elections in my proven to be corrupt county and done so both in print and on Craig Andresen’s and my Right Side Patriots radio show.

And while at times I have played “devil’s advocate” regarding certain candidates on the right that I have disagreed with…as in those so far to the right that they actually shake hands with the far left…as in those who will not accept that the “social issues” belong to the states and not on the federal level…I have always come at said folks with verifiable facts and numbers and not with lies, innuendos, suppositions, or through partisan colored eyes as to do so would make me as contemptible as those I will now eviscerate. And why eviscerate…because I and my fellow Floridians have simply had enough of the fraud, cheating, lies, and illegalities emanating from our respective SOE offices.

And though I will concentrate on my home territory of Broward County in this article know that what I say, in most cases, is being mirrored by Susan Bucher, the SOE in Palm Beach County, just on a slightly lesser scale. Never forget Congressman Lt. Col. Allen West’s reelection bid and how that was stolen from him by her not counting the military votes and that now Bucher is refusing to comply with court orders.

Now let’s start with the fact that on November 6th we Floridians voted Republican Ron DeSantis as Florida’s next governor over socialist-leaning Democrat candidate Andrew Gillum who favors sanctuary status for Florida, and we voted Rick Scott to be our new Senator, replacing Bill Nelson of the Democrat’s “good ol’ boys network.” And even though Andrew Gillum conceded to Ron DeSantis when he saw the Panhandle votes decidedly going to his opponent, Gillum is now taking his concession back. And while a concession usually means a candidate has accepted as fact that they cannot win their given race a concession while symbolic is not legally binding, but to revoke a concession is indeed highly unethical for it usually involves the candidate crying fowl as in “voter fraud” as the reason why the vote…why the voice of we Floridians…needs to be overturned.

But the thing is that “voter fraud” in both Broward and Palm Beach counties is not being done by Republicans but by Democrats alone, and the fraud reaches up to the Supervisor of Elections in both counties…especially in Broward County where it lays directly at the feet of SOE Brenda Snipes…a woman as dishonest as they come yet a woman who has gotten away with her shenanigans because (I believe) she knows that the color of her skin and her gender alone will be her weapon of choice if anyone dares try to remove her. Don’t believe me…just listen to her condescending and chastising “tone” in how she talks to reporters when being interviewed on television…it’s like Brenda Snipes has one hand in her pocket ready to pull out the race card if she doesn’t like the questions being asked.

First appointed SOE by Jeb Bush in November 2003 after he removed Florida’s only at that time black woman SOE Miriam Oliphant for flagrant malfeasance, Jeb (I believe) did not want the blow back of racism being leveled against him for removing Oliphant so he took both the cowards and politically correct way out and replaced Oliphant with another black women…and Snipes has been voted in time and again since then. But also remember that Governor Rick Scott had the chance to actually remove Snipes from her SOE position back in 2017 when she admitted in court, in lawsuit Case No. 16-cv-61474-BLOOM/Valle brought by the conservative legal group American Civil Rights Union, that non-citizens and felons “possibly voted,” and that there “seems to be” more voters registered on Broward County voter rolls than there are actual eligible voters. Yet Scott didn’t remove her and (I believe) he didn’t do so because he, like Jeb Bush, feared said race card being used against him in any future political aspirations he might have.

In fact, on July 31, 2017 our local newspaper, the Sun-Sentinel, stated that when she testified in court, “Snipes acknowledged the processes her office [has] been using aren’t perfect and that some non-citizens and felons have voted despite not being eligible—especially right before major elections, when groups are actively registering new voters.”

Nice huh…now add in that Broward’s questionable issues raised during the trial included fraudulent voter registration lists which included on them supposed 130-year-old voters, the afore mentioned non-citizens and felons, duplicate registrations, illegal registrations, and hundreds of commercial addresses listed as residential addresses that turned out to be rented mailboxes…with Snipes knowing all and doing basically nothing about it. But the problem is that this case against Snipes and her office was not presented to the courts as a voter fraud case…as it should have been…but as a case questioning whether Broward County managed its voter records in accordance with 1993’s National Voter Registration Act…commonly referred to as the “Motor Voter Law”…the very law that has caused more problems than it solves as it allows people to register to vote when they apply for a driver’s license whether they are citizens or not. And while this law does require SOE offices to keep their voter lists accurate and up to date, Brenda Snipes apparently never did so and for now obvious reasons.

And know this was not the only time Snipes has been charged with voter irregularities…here’s just a short list of the numerous charges leveled against her: in 2004 some 58,000 mail-in ballots were not delivered to voters; in 2012 roughly 1,000 uncounted ballots were discovered a week after the election; in the 2016 primary election results were posted on the elections office’s website BEFORE polls closed; also in 2016 a medical marijuana amendment was left off some ballots; and a court ruled she had broken election law when she destroyed ballots from the 2016 election 12 months after it instead of the 22 months required by federal law…the case of Tim Canova v. Brenda Snipes.

Briefly, Broward Circuit Judge Raag Singhal ruled in Case No.:CASE17-010904(21) that Supervisor Brenda Snipes’ office did improperly discarded thousands of ballots cast two years ago in the Democratic primary race between Tim Canova and Debbie Wasserman Schultz after Snipes ignored and then illegally obstructed Canova’s request to copy and inspect ballots. Yet even with this ruling Snipes remained in her SOE position…after all the thought of Snipes using the race card is a powerful incentive for her being left untouched. Nothing else makes sense now does it.

See video of Snipes and Canova here:

So now that brings us to the actual numbers…indisputable on the record numbers… numbers proving that there has been major voter fraud going on in Broward County for quite some time, and that SOE Brenda Snipes knew all about it and looked away for it served her party’s candidates and agenda well to do so.

Let’s start with these latest numbers as I write this: today, three days after the midterm election, suddenly and miraculously 83,000+ uncounted votes have been discovered in Broward County with neighboring Palm Beach County also miraculously discovering 15,000 uncounted votes. And surprise-surprise…newly we thought elected Sen. Rick Scott’s margin of victory has now dropped from 57,000 votes to just 15,074 votes out of the of 8.2 million votes cast when on election night Scott held a 50.09% lead over incumbent Nelson’s 49.91%.

And while Ron DeSantis’ election night tally showed a solid 1% win over Andrew Gillum, 49.8% to 48.8%…his numbers have also suddenly shrunk to but less than 1/2 of 1% point…as in 49.61% to 49.17%…thus requiring an automatic machine recount. Now separated by just 36,235 votes out of more than 8.2 million votes cast, DeSantis’ election night win was by over 55,000 votes but now has landed at 4,073,423 votes to Gillum’s 4,037,304 votes.

And poor Matt Caldwell, a seventh-generation Floridian and a Second Amendment “purist,” saw his election victory stolen right out from under him as gun-control advocate Democrat Nikki Fried, who has no agricultural experience whatsoever and who coincidentally happens to be from Broward County, is for now apparently our states new Commissioner of Agricultural and Consumer Services…a cabinet level position that includes amongst its responsibilities consumer regulation, the protection of goods to market, and the issuing of concealed arms permits. Now doesn’t that last responsibility answer it all.

So where have all these votes Democrats need to overturn the election come from? First, while we keep hearing the words “provisional ballots” being thrown around, the truth, I believe, is that these suddenly appearing ballots have been recently “manufactured” and lugged in by truck as the Democrats attempt to pass them off as now legitimately found but misplaced votes. And second, I believe, reported tally numbers on the SOE website and voter registration numbers have been manipulated by Brenda Snipes as well as the actual voting numbers themselves.

But first as to the “provisional ballots.” A “provisional ballot” in Florida (as per Florida Statute 101.048) is a ballot cast by a voter whose eligibility to vote is either in question or cannot be verified at the polling site…many times illegal voters…with any and all questions about said voter’s eligibility having to be resolved before their vote can count. More on that in a bit.

Now as to the official numbers reported on the SOE website…numbers themselves that show fraud is going on. Let’s start with the fact that when the election was over the SOE office reported that 634,000 total votes had been cast (Snipes on Friday morning changed that number to 717,000 votes cast after she suddenly found 83,000 votes that were not tallied but that’s impossible as that number does not jive with the SOE website tally numbers). And on November 9, 2018…three days AFTER the election…the Broward SOE reported that for this election there was 1,182,220 registered voters…with 593,540 being Democrats, 252,023 being Republicans, 328.868 being ‘NPA,’ and 7,789 being ‘Other’…eligible to vote. In other words 548,220 eligible voters…a bit less than half of eligible voters…did not vote in this all important election.

So I guess all those ballots now being trucked over to the SOE office are some of the ballots cast by the 548,220 folks who supposedly did not vote but whose ballots are now part of the 83,000+ ballots that have “miraculously” appeared…sure they have…and these in the video below taken by Florida’s First District Rep. Matt Gaetz might well be some of those ballots.

See video of of those ballots here:

But important to remember is that to be able to register and vote in Florida you must present photo and signature identification on Election Day; be a U.S. citizen; be a Florida resident; be at least 18 years old; have never been legally judged ineligible to vote for either mental incapacitation or crime; and have not been convicted of a felony and had your civil rights restored…and yet as previously stated Snipes admitted felons and non-citizens have voted. And yet Brenda Snipes remains in her position as SOE.

Below is the actual voter registration numbers at the time of Florida’s August primary day:

Notice that on August 28th…primary day in Broward County…1,152,897 people were eligible to vote with 274,038 people actually voting, as in a 23.8% turnout. Now remember that three days after the midterm election registered voters were at 1,182,220 an increase of 29,323 registered voters but with the vast majority being new Democrat voters with but a miserly 4,940 new registers going into the Republican column…that in itself is quite odd as Republican vote-getters claim they registered way more new Republicans than that.

But truly odd and something that should raise a red flag is that the original number of those eligible to vote on November 6th have been taken off the SOE website to be replaced by new numbers posted three days AFTER the election…and I want to know what is the discrepancy between the pre and post election numbers and why aren’t those pre-election numbers available. What is this woman trying to hide?

Also quite distressing and truly damning…in fact this might be Snipes’ very downfall…is that at 4:03 PM, November 06, 2018…three hours BEFORE Florida polls closed…Local 10 News (WPLG an ABC affiliate) reported on their website…* the following election results with 100% of Precincts Reporting (577/577): FL Governor; Broward County…Democrat Andrew Gillum 67% with 480,314 votes to Republican Ron DeSantis’ 31% with 221,335 votes and U.S. Senate FL;Broward County…Democrat Bill Nelson 69% with 469,969 votes to Republican Rick Scott’s 30% and 210,599 votes.

What I want to know…what I demand to know…is how and from whom did Local 10 News get these numbers three hours BEFORE the polls closed…(and nowhere does it say these are early voting numbers) I’ll tell you from whom… from “crooked” Brenda Snipes! And if ALL precincts reported in as Local 10 claims why and what the hell is Broward still counting!!! Phony, fake, and “manufactured” votes that’s what they’re counting and they’re doing so solely to overturn the election and to make Democrats the election winners!!! Something stinks folks…and stinks big!

Now let’s take these numbers in the DeSantis v. Gillum race for example and compare them with the official SOE website registered to vote numbers: as per Brenda Snipes there were 1,182,220 eligible to vote in this election from Broward County and in total between these two men 701,649 votes were cast as of this Local 10 News 4:03pm post in the governors race. Now according to Snipes’ total NOT voting count of 548,220 registered voters and you subtract the 480,571 from those who did vote in this race, as per the Local 10 News post, and even if you assume that the Local 10 News post is the tally of early voters (which nowhere does it say that it is) that leaves you with a questionable 67,649 vote tally discrepancy in Snipe’s numbers, and we know damn well that way more than 67,649 people voted on election day. Translation: people voted who had absolutely NO legal right to vote.

And that folks changes the entirety of the eligible to vote numbers and reduces the total number across the board of legitimate people who voted for each and every candidate. Talk about out and out voter fraud.

And now we must add in that whiny Democrats are claiming that the ballot set-up itself was to blame as the Senate race appeared below the instructions and that they didn’t see it. First, the ballot itself is approved by the SOE herself…as in by the anything but should be nonpartisan SOE Brenda Snipes and second, are Democrats really that stupid as to not look to the bottom of the page as they knew well there was a Senate race. And here’s a fact that should shut them up…every voter gets a sample ballot in the mail BEFORE the election…if you didn’t get one take it up with Snipes.

So where does this leave us as of now, Saturday afternoon at 2:47pm EST as I conclude my investigative report…it leads us to the fact that Brenda Snipes, in my opinion, is as crooked as they come. The Hillary/Obama loyalist and (I believe) vote fixer has broken many Florida voting laws via her SOE position. In fact, Ms. Brenda Snipes and her office broke Florida law 102.141 (b)…which details the process by which ballots are to be counted and tallied…as in it is required that within 30 minutes of the polls closing she should have published an estimated count of the ballots in hand, and it was to be regularly updated every 45 minutes there afterward…and she did not do this. Every other county in Florida other than Broward and maybe Palm Beach had done this. And with the other SOE’s following procedure, the only logical explanation for Snipes not doing so is that she and her people were either too busy “manufacturing” votes or were too busy trucking in the votes that they had already “manufactured.”

And that brings us back to the provisional votes…the vast majority of which are the very votes Snipes claims to have found. There’s a simple way to end her nonsense…call those voters and ask if indeed they had cast a provisional vote…I bet most have not. And I bet the same can be said about the majority of the absentee ballots as well. In other words, I would not doubt that Brenda Snipes and her staff both BEFORE the election and within these past few days AFTER the election have “bubbled-in” left over blank ballots…the now to date 83,000+ ballots suddenly found.

So as the news just broke that both our senate and governors race are now subject to recounts**…as if we didn’t know that would happen…all I can say is that the fix is in and it probably was given the go-ahead when Hillary Clinton visited both Broward County SOE Brenda Snipes and Palm Beach County SOE Susan Bucher a week before the election. And I also would not doubt that Barack HUSSEIN Obama’s hand is in this as well for Obama demands payback for his being denied his third term in office via his puppet Hillary Clinton. And what better payback would there be than turning Florida blue.

Case closed.
* As I publish this report on 11/12/18, the Local 10 News (WPLG) website is still showing the election results they posted three hours BEFORE the polls closed.

** Here’s how the Democrats will try to pull off some of the vote manipulation as in the scanner recounts of the paper ballots which can easily be defrauded. All someone has to do is fill in (bubble in) the box of the Democrat candidate where the original ballot had the Republican candidate marked. The machine will now recognize it as a double vote and reject it, thereby eliminating the original Republican vote.

Copyright @ 2018 Diane Sori / The Patriot Factor / All Rights Reserved.


Tuesday, November 13th from 7 to 9pm EST on American Political Radio, RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS Craig Andresen and Diane Sori discuss ‘Votes Manufactured Not Found’; ‘ A Trifecta of Nuts in the News’; and important news of the day.

Hope you can tune in at:…or on Tune-In at:

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The Liberal Mind and the Role Of Prevarication

Tue, 11/20/2018 - 8:58am
Introduction to Prevarication Who has seen behaviors from liberals in political debate as we see in a Columbo suspect?  Guilty suspects evade key questions and evidence. Watch this for a few moments, to understand clearly:  Columbo Asks Questions – Minute 4:00 is where it gets good. The suspects become evasive, dismissive, patronizing, then glib, or smarmy.  These are behaviors of guilt, not ignorance.  Prevarication is an attempt to steer the discussion away from what the person knows are damaging facts. A great example is detective Columbo TV shows, you can watch many of his best inquiries on Youtube. Conscious Choice

Once a mind has chosen to avoid discussing the facts, it is then maintaining its course based on belief.  That “belief-based” mind has to consciously know and fear it is in conflict with facts, it’s not accidental or stupidity.  For example, a mind does not change the subject on important matters by accident, it has to be conscious, otherwise that mind would be unable to stay on topic – babbling.  Changing topic when asked a question, is one of the 11 forms of prevarication we can identify clearly.

Fear Plays a Role

The fear part of belief is evident when a mind uses a series of prevarications to avoid admitting their belief is of the flimsiest nature: A guess they know is probably wrong, but there is some hidden, selfish reward to say it is a belief, and to say they are committed to it.  Religion.

More succinctly, I hypothesize the mind of “belief” has had a discussion with itself, which convinced itself its belief is probably not true, but it feels better to pretend it is true, and hide the truth it knows with “prevarication tactics.”   That mind tells itself there is far less short term cost to this belief it has, than there is cost of acknowledging the truth. Prevaricating tactics are manifested after that.

Denial from Conservatives

Thus, even a conservative will often avoid “believing” liberals are prevaricating because their spouse or child is liberal, and they don’t want to deal with the fact these relatives are deceiving them, constantly, about things political.

Or, the Christian doesn’t do their fact checking to see if the Bible is really true, they just “believe” because it makes them feel good.  (It turns out the Gospel accounts can be considered very authentic truth, based on objective analysis from multiple angles of inquiry. See Lawyers, Socrates and Jesus.)

You may be one of these conservatives refusing reality, clinging to “belief” liberals are actually stupid, refusing to admit there is now abundant evidence they are con men trying to fool you, abusing your grace. Brazenly usurping benefits programs, rights, elections, news, borders, Supreme Court powers….. then prevaricating to evade questioning about their intentions.

Republican Prevarication

Republicans will often prevaricate in defending Reagan’s deficits as real GDP increases – but I can talk about half of them out of that false claim.   Constitutional advocates prevaricate the least, I find.  About ten percent of the population.

Great Men Have Observed Prevarication

* “It is difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it.” —Upton Sinclair
* MLK said “Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”
* Ayn Rand wrote: “The hardest thing to explain is the glaringly evident which everybody had decided not to see.”
* “How strangely will the tools of a tyrant pervert the plain meaning of words.”  – Samuel Adams
* “Far more crucial than what we know or do not know is what we do not want to know.” – Eric Hoffer

Buy this researcher’s 5 star book, Atlas Shouts.

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Israel in the Crosshairs…Again

Tue, 11/20/2018 - 8:56am

Author’s Note: As I finished writing this article the 72-hour ceasefire between Israel and Hamas ended as Hamas fired more

Thankfully, the midterm elections are over and we surely need a political breather before we gear-up for 2020. And with 2020 being a presidential election year we will see the Democrats making sure it will be even nastier and dirtier than their 2018 midterm trial-run was. And while many crybaby Democrats still cannot accept the fact that Florida is staying in the ‘RED’ column and that Stacy Abrams is not Georgia’s next governor, the world outside the U.S…as in those nations wishing for Israel’s demise…is still trudging forward on its usual ever-focused agenda of telling both the Jewish State and her allies what Israel can and cannot do with her own sovereign land.

Let’s start with known anti-Semite and in-our-face islamic condoner German Chancellor Angela Merkel, who we are now just learning once again channeled her inner ‘Hitler’ earlier this year. The very woman who in a 2008 speech before Israel’s Knesset proclaimed that Israel’s security interests are “non-negotiable,” and who now single-handily destroyed today’s Germany with her laying out the welcome mat for the muslim still ongoing invasion of Europe, this woman “strongly urged” Romania…who had abstained when a U.N. Resolution condemned the Trump administration’s decision to recognize Jerusalem as Israel’s capital and move our embassy there…not to move their county’s embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem.

In fact, last April, Merkel took it upon herself to personally call Romania’s President Klaus Iohannis to “urge” him to stop the relocation plans initiated by Romania’s Social-Democrat lead government and Social Democratic politician Liviu Dragnea. And that was after those plans had been announced on Romania’s Antena 3 television station for all the world to hear…plans that stated that Romania’s government “had adopted a memorandum deciding to start the procedure to effectively move the embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem.” But this call by Merkel then led center right-leaning independent President Iohannis to call for Romania’s pro-Israel Prime Minister Viorica Dancila’s “ouster” solely based upon this relocation matter.

Bowing to pressure and/or threats from Merkel, Iohannis issued a statement saying that, “At this stage a transfer of the embassy would represent a violation of international law…and could only be finalized after the conclusion of peace talks.” A shameful act of cowardliness and betrayal on President Iohannis’ part if you ask me.

And it seems Chancellor Merkel also called numerous other European leaders “urging” them not to move their county’s embassies to Jerusalem. And with Germany’s refusing to recognize Jerusalem as Israel’s capital…Merkel’s Germany as it is barely recognizes the Jewish State at all…directly led a Merkel administration spokeswoman to tell the Jerusalem Post that the “status of Jerusalem should, in the framework of an agreement, be clarified.” In other words, give the nonexistent Palestinians however much land they want in exchange for a peace agreement on paper…an agreement not worth the cost of the paper it’s written on as it’s signed by those with fingers crossed behind their backs.

Adding that a solution to the conflict between the Palestinians and Israelis can take place only with an agreed upon two-state solution, this unnamed spokeswoman also stated that, “Until such an agreement is reached, all sides should avoid steps that sharpen the existing tensions and complicate a peaceful solution of the conflict.” But the thing is that as long as Iranian funded Hamas keeps firing rockets into Israel and as long as they keep attacking innocent Israeli civilians there can be no peace because sometimes peace…a truly lasting peace…can only be achieved when there is a definitive winner and a definitive loser in the game called war…and most specially in the Israeli/Palestinian war. And make no mistake it is a war of sorts albeit an undeclared war that the media calls a “conflict,” but like with all wars it is a “conflict” ripe with ceasefires that are anything but.

And know that Israel does not respond well…nor would we…to Hamas’ almost daily barrage of rockets being fired at her cities and towns. And now, thankfully, some Arab countries at peace, if you will, with Israel understand this as well. In fact, an Egyptian military intelligence source recently confided in exiled Jordanian Opposition Coalition Secretary General Mudar Zahran…the very man poised to bring secular democracy to Jordan once the “kinglet” is removed from power…that Egypt…that President el-Sisi…conveyed a stern message to Hamas. Telling Secretary General Zahran that the message stated the following, “Unless you stop, President Trump will allow Israel to annihilate you,” these words now have set the stage for either an all-out war between Israel and Hamas…a war that Israel really does not want…or as a means to diffuse a war Hamas is told they want by Iran who is leaving out the fact that it’s a war Hamas cannot win even with Iran’s military assistance.

But given the latest developments why does Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu not want to fight Hamas or Iran at this specific point in time…because he knows Iran wants war and logic dictates never give the enemy what they want. As per his article Why Israel Doesn’t Want A War With Gaza published in The America Thinker, Zahran states that, “It is my experience that when an enemy is so determined to get into an armed conflict, one must be very careful not to give the enemy what they want.” Extremely wise words that should have been learned from the lessons of history but apparently have not been learned by some key players. And Zahran rightfully added that, “…we have to realize this: those pushing the Hamas buttons are heavily financed by Iran, through the mother group, the Muslim Brotherhood, who is also deeply in bed with Iran”…and that “…the military actions started shortly after US sanctions on Iran took effect,” which is a truth too many refuse to see.

So Hamas’ latest saber rattling and rocket attacks on Israel are actually nothing but a diversion even though a recent Israeli intelligence gathering operation went awry leaving a senior Hamas commander, six Hamas fighters, and an Israeli lieutenant colonel dead, thus setting this current scenario in motion.

And the truth is that these latest rocket attacks on Israel actually made no sense even with the above stated deaths, because things were going well for Hamas, and again according to JOC Secretary General Mudar Zahran, “On the very day Hamas began firing rockets, they received $15 Million from Saudi Arabia and $60 Million from Qatar to pay its public servants who have not received pay checks. As a result, a joyous atmosphere was dominant in Gaza.”

So why then did Hamas lob 400+ rockets into Israel…again it all comes back to ground zero…Iran. Iran told Hamas…ordered Hamas…to do so as Iran is both economically and politically hurting from our recently reimposed no-holds-barred sanctions. Iran desperately needs war to hold onto any semblance of power it has with both its people and on the world stage, and the looming threat of war…a true Israeli/Palestinian war…helps to put the world’s spotlight back onto Hamas, who doesn’t really have all that much to lose, while Iran on the other hand has much to gain…as in garnering needed support for and an opportunity to wipe Israel off the map. And it seems that right now Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is the only one who understands the truth of what’s going on.

How so…make no mistake Benjamin Netanyahu is not afraid of war nor is Israel, but the timing of war must be right and must be of Israel’s choosing alone. Going to war because your enemy wants war more times than not brings more civilian casualties and hardships than either side most likely intended. And Netanyahu understands well that sometimes peace cannot be achieved through war but through statesmanship…a vastly different animal than mere diplomacy…but that said statesmanship must be brokered with a clear head and a definitive plan and not through mere emotional outbursts.

Outbursts like this…“Surrendering to terrorism” and “gutless,” said Avigdor Lieberman to describe what he felt was the behavior of both the Israeli government and Netanyahu himself, as well as to justify his own resignation as defense minister simply because Netanyahu agreed…for now…to a ceasefire…a ceasefire brokered by Egypt and Qatar with backing from the Trump Administration.

So as Netanyahu faces flack at home for not rushing into war after the newest round of Hamas attacks, and as he hears himself being called both “gutless” and a “coward,” the truth is that Benjamin Netanyahu is neither for he is a man who puts Israel and her interests first not unlike our President Trump who wisely puts America and America’s interests first.

From the time he first became Prime Minister in 1996 and with his return to power in 2009, Benjamin Netanyahu has remained unwavering in his wanting to prevent the establishment of a so-called Palestinian state…he knows the Palestinians have a homeland and it’s called Jordan…for a Palestinian state as wanted by both Hamas and Iran would have it extend from the Jordan River west to the Mediterranean Sea with the Jewish State of Israel no longer on the map.

So why then did Benjamin Netanyahu agree to this ceasefire knowing that it could end his political career come the next election? Why…because he knows that as long as Hamas controls Gaza, where most of the rockets are launched from, it helps to solidify the ever growing rift between P.A. President Mohmoud Abbas’ secular Fatah movement (which is still open to negotiations with Israel) and islamic Hamas (who wants armed resistance alone), and it’s a rift Israel can use to its advantage in the long run. And Netanyahu sees this as the “big picture”…as in Hamas being the unknowing catalyst that helps to stop the formation of a Palestinian state…while others in Israel’s Knesset are shortsighted and only deal in the emotion filled present. If only Israel’s party leaders understood that it’s their shortsightedness that can cause Israel more harm than any Hamas rockets ever could maybe then they’d work with Netanyahu instead of against him as they are doing right now.

Statesmanship unlike diplomacy is surely a hard game to play but if played right…as Benjamin Netanyahu truly is trying to do…statesmanship can in the end attain the desired peace with Israel and Israel alone calling the shots…even though now entering center stage is the same non-binding United Nations General Assembly resolution that is voted on every year…the resolution that calls for Israel to return the Golan Heights to Syria, something Israel rightfully will not do.

But this time there is a difference…a big difference…as the United States for the first time ever voted against the resolution thus signaling a dramatic shift in U.S. policy toward the occupied territory, and it’s thanks to President Trump.

“Given the resolution’s anti-Israel bias, as well as the militarization of the Syrian Golan border, and a worsening humanitarian crisis, this year the United States has decided to vote no on the resolution,” our ambassador to the U.N. Nikki Haley thankfully said for she knows well that with the U.S. covering Israel’s back the U.N. can only go so far with its demands before both the U.S. and Israel reach their breaking points and pull out of the U.N. sending it crashing to the ground.

So while we take a well deserved Thanksgiving holiday breather from politics here at home, know that in today’s volatile world politics itself never takes a breather…it especially lurks in the shadows of those from within and from the outside wishing to do the Jewish State of Israel harm.

Copyright @ 2018 Diane Sori / The Patriot Factor / All Rights Reserved.


For more political commentary please visit my RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS partner Craig Andresen’s blog The National Patriot to read his latest article Thanksgiving…Without the Gravy.



Today, Tuesday, November 20th from 7 to 9pm EST on American Political Radio, RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS Craig Andresen and Diane Sori discuss ‘Israel in the Crosshairs… Again’; ‘Thanksgiving…Without the Gravy’; and important news of the day.

Hope you can tune in at:…or on Tune-In at: at:” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener””>

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The Man Under Authority

Mon, 11/19/2018 - 10:24am

“Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. 7 Therefore I did not presume to come to you. But say the word, and let my servant be healed. 8 For I too am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me: and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”

Now, I know little about international politics. I’m a Texan, and if you know Texans, we generally center on just keeping them Meskins off the fence. This having been said, while I was watching James Randi do his rope trick on YouTube last night, you should go see that by the way, I made a mental connection between Randi slipping out of a secure knot and the Great Monkeysama in Saudi Arabia uttering the magic words, “I wasn’t wid dem brothas.”

Now let me get this right. A team of up to twenty people book a flight from Mecca to Turkey, including a doctor. They all show up at the Saudi Arabian embassy. A reporter, whom had issue with the powers that be back at the old Kabba shows up to buy a pack of cigarettes, goes into the embassy, gets tortured, choked, the doctor pronounces him dead, ends up being processed into the finest Persian Rug you ever saw in your life, all on audio tape, and nobody saw anything. If you believe that, have I got a Mosque for you, and it’s on SALE!

The CIA says the Crown Prince probably had something to do with it. Well, “DUH!” First “intelligent” thing I’ve seen come out of them in fifty years. You remember the CIA, folks. Yeah. The guys who said some nerd in a window was a lone shooter on November 22, 1963 while everyone and their dog in Dealy Plaza was ducking bullets. Yeah, our “intelligence!” I feel so served and protected.

President Trump said, “Au Contrairé! Ali Salami is a down guy. He says we’re cool, and we give him rifles, and bullets, and planes, trains, and automobiles.” THAT’S the real deal folks. Ask yourself. What would a single reporter be onto that was so important that a team was dispatched to turn him into shish ka bob? Billion dollar arms deal! Told you I was simple. Trump is selling guns and whiskey to the Indians.

Why does Saudi Arabia need such a vast amount of armaments? Because NOBODY in the “Religion of Peace” gets along, that’s why. Kinda like Baptists and Pentecostals, only with a Cruise Missile. These jugheads have been at each other’s throats ever since that guy ran out of Mohammed’s tent screaming that he was dead. And they wanna always blame the white eyes.

The Crown Prince has a very big deal going right now, and the reporter was onto him. That, and in a country where beheading a pretty girl for being pretty is business as usual, slicing up a pesky reporter should be no big deal. But, now Trump is portraying them as being our “staunchest ally!” ISRAEL is our staunchest ally! Saudis fly planes into buildings, you numb nut!

So, there you have it. International politics 101 from a Texas slant. Guns for money, dead reporters, divergent opinions from multiple government agencies, dead pretty girls, and a partridge inna pear treeeeeeee! I got to get back to the border. They do all look alike! (Tip of the hat to Brother Theo for His scholarly input on this one.)

The Butcher Shop

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Sharon – #METOO

Sun, 11/18/2018 - 8:57am

He found his way back to the revival site early. It was just getting dusk about six when he pulled onto the lot. As he got out of his car Robert motioned to him from inside the tent and made a sign for John to meet him behind the tent out of sight of the others. John didn’t walk into the tent, going instead around the parameter to the rear where Robert was waiting.

“Need to talk to you a minute, Johnny.”

“What’s up?”

Robert leaned back, and drew open the canvas to show John something, “You see that blonde there in front, over by the choir area?”

John leaned forward and Patty was in the front of the area in her robes talking to some of the ladies in the choir. “Yeah, that’s Patty. I ate with her yesterday when we ate at the fellowship lunch.”

“Robert put the canvas back in place, “Well she ain’t feeling very social right now. Ever since she got here she’s been yakking to whoever will listen to her about you!”

John reopened the flap. Patty was talking very fast to one of the older ladies in the choir. The senior woman’s head was bobbing up and down in total agreement with whatever Patty was putting out. John closed the flap.

“What’ll I do?”

Robert looked John in the eye. “Johnny, I don’t need to ask, but I’m going to, not because I think you are in sin, but because I want a straight answer about your friend at the other church.”

“You don’t have to ask, Bob. I have never, and I will never disgrace my Lord with such an action. Sharon is probably the most holy woman I’ve ever met. She epitomizes what I think the Holy Scriptures tell us a Christian woman should be. Bob, I wouldn’t even make an offhand remark about her.”

Robert put his hand on John’s shoulder, “Then I stand behind you one hundred percent! John, this is only one stop out of many in our career of bringing the Lord to people. I am not going to let one gossipy woman tear down years of good work on both our parts. Also, if you want to go and see a lady at a different church, or pray with her, or have dinner with her, you will not hear anything about it from either Pat or I.” The old preacher smiled, “Pat was just worried about the girl being about to cook.”

They laughed. Robert reached out and put both of his hands on John’s shoulders, “Lord Jesus, defend our brother John in the midst of this battle. Give him the words to say, and the heart to hold to the words. Give him the whole armor of God. Don’t allow the selfishness of simple minded people stand in way of your work. We pray this in Jesus’ name, Amen!”
John responded, “Amen,” and went out to sit in the front row.

Pat came in from the other side of the tent near the ladies area and met Robert. John saw them confer a few moments, and then Robert went up onto the stage and began straight away his first tune of the evening. As John listened to Robert’s voice he began to boil inside about what was going on. Patty was standing in position on the choir’s bleachers smiling at him. He smiled back, but he wanted to drag her off of there, and take her around back to ask her just what she was up to. He kept trying to be understanding, but each time he’d calm down again the anger would surge back as if it had a life of its own.

He opened his New International to the opening verses of Luke, chapter sixteen. “You know, everyone always thinks that the Christian life is one of an easy ride. Just option for Jesus and all the trains will run on time. But you know what I’ve found out? In my thirty-two years, I’ve seen Christians take more beatings, more abuse, loose more, hurt more than any of their secular neighbors. Jesus told us to forget about ourselves, ‘Take up your cross and follow me.’ Did we understand what he meant?”

“He meant that Satan never sleeps. He has an ongoing debate with God that he can’t afford to lose, and he knows that his time is short. Any way he can he will attack, because if he can keep one,” he held up one finger to emphasis the point, and kept it there for a minute, “. . . one soul from coming to the Lord Jesus Christ, well, that’s a victory for him. And what I’m going to talk about tonight is something that’s going to shock you. I’m going to say something that is going to ‘blow you away!’ It is simply this. The opposition, the people of this world, the people who do not know Jesus. . . are smarter and quicker, and better equip than the Christian man or woman.”

He pause for effect. The crowd was quiet for a bit. “Turn in your Bibles to Luke, chapter sixteen, right at the first and read with me. I’m reading from the New International, but it’s stated pretty much the same in all the versions.”

He waited for the crowd to find the passage and then he began, “Jesus told his disciples: ‘There was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions. So he called him in and asked him, ‘What is this I hear about you? Give an account of your management, because you cannot be manager any longer.’ The manager said to himself, ‘what shall I do now? My master is taking away my job. I’m not strong enough to dig, and I’m ashamed to beg. . . I know what I’ll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.’ So he called in each one of his master’s debtors. He asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ ‘Eight hundred gallons of olive oil, ‘ he replied. The manager told him, ‘Take you bill, sit down quickly, and make it four hundred.’ Then he asked the second, ‘And how much do you owe?’ ‘A thousand bushels of wheat, ‘ he replied. He told him, ‘Take you bill and make it eight hundred.’ The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light.”1

John closed his Bible. “They’re smarter than us folks. They can outmaneuver us at every turn, ’cause they’re crafty! The unsaved can say anything they want to say and make it sound believable. The children of the light? They just take it on the chin most of the time. Paul tells us to ‘put on the mind of Christ.’

1 Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.

What is the mind of Christ. The mind of Christ is the trait that will turn the other cheek. The mind of Christ will let them spit right in your face. They can gossip, and you just have to let it go. Don’t give it the dignity of an answer.”

“Paul had the mind of Christ. And, because of this he was kept from his ministry for many years, while people who thought that they knew him ran their mouths and talked about him, and said all manner of things about Paul. But folks, where were they when Paul knelt down before the executioner? He reminds us in Second Timothy, ‘only Luke is with me. . . ‘ All the people, with all the words, and all the good gossip, just left Paul to die alone.”

John could see Robert from the corner of his eye. He knew his friend was wondering how he was going to tie this all in to the “Highway to Hell” theme he’d been following on the first two nights. He continued, “I’ll bet you wonder where all this is heading. You’re asking, ‘Brother John, how does this have anything to do with your Highway to Hell?’ Well folks, the Highway to Hell is a symbolic highway. It is not a physical highway. It is not like this road out behind me here. Why if it was, I’d just go out there, and park cars across it and stop people from going down it. No, the highway to hell is here.” He put his right hand on his heart.

“Jesus tells us that what comes out of a man makes him unclean. What comes out of a man is words. Clever words. Words of worldly people. Why, worldly people can even use the Bible to make a point, and make it all sound like the truth. Christian folk don’t have clever words, or schemes, because they have what?” He paused for an answer, but he knew they would
just listen, “They have the ‘Mind of Christ. No, the Highway to Hell is right here,” he tapped his chest, “and it is paved with,” he turned his Bible to Galatians, “. . . sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like, and all other things that are not fruits of the Holy Spirit. ‘Know them by their fruits,’ the Master told us. ‘Know them by their fruits.”

“Yes. You can pull off of that road outside here. You can turn into the parking lot. You can come into the tent. You can come right down front here, and you can pray until the cows come home, but if you have deceitfulness in your heart, and do not let the Lord Jesus have control of your life then brothers and sisters you are still on the Highway to Hell only now you’re going faster than you were when you acted like you was pulling off.”

“Reform your lives. I don’t care what you think of me, or Robert over there, or the man or woman sitting next to you, or anyone else, the only thing that matters is to let Jesus Christ into your heart tonight, right now! Right here! Praise God! Praise God!”

The choir broke into “Let Us Gather By the River,” and John went down in front of the stage to pray with the people who were finding their way down. The amount of people was exceptional tonight. John prayed with one after another. They all had some bit of “owning up” to do about someone they’d offended, or someone they’d hurt in some way. He prayed with all who came to him, telling each one that Jesus loved them, and that it would all be fine now.

The amount of tears always got to John. He genuinely loved to see people turn to Jesus for consolation. Only now did he notice that he’d completely forgotten about Patty and her stories, what ever they may have been.

He finished the final prayer of the evening, started cleaning up with Robert.

“You got plans for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m going on a picnic with Sharon.”

“Good! You did well tonight. I never seen better. I was beginning to worry about you, but when you ended it all yelling, ‘Praise God, Praise God,’ well, I knew you still had the spirit.”

John smiled, “That’s what it really was Bob. I think that moment was about as close as I’ve ever come to talking in tongues.”

Robert hugged him, and he and Pat went back to the hotel.

The Butcher Shop

The post Sharon – #METOO appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


Sat, 11/17/2018 - 7:02am

Christmas Morning

The old, West Texas barn was cold on Christmas morning as the two men huddled around the little hibachi grill glowing red with coals. It was a white
man and a Mexican who found comfort

in each other’s company this day. The Mexican put a ragged cigar box on the table before them and spoke, “This is the smoke I told you about. It has special power. I wanted to smoke it only with you, for I trust you.”

The white man opened the cigar box and saw within it was a bag of herb, bulging at the seams. Tucked neatly within its confines were various rolling papers. Gingerly he took a pack of papers out and withdrew the bag. Then he took two papers from the packet and sealed them together, even though they were “double-wide” according to the packets.

“Looks like good stuff,” the white man said.

“It comes from deep within Mexico. Very few Anglos get to see this, or smoke it. It releases the spirit, and the spirit goes where it wants.”

The white man began to roll the herb, and then put it into his mouth and sealed it so none of the particles
could fall from the cigarette. Then, reaching into the glowing fire in the pot on the floor he withdrew a twig, still glowing and placed it onto the end of the cigarette, drawing the smoke that was produced deep within him, and passed the cigarette over to the Mexican.

The Mexican man was old, but carried it well. His hair was already showing streaks of white, lacing the once black strands. His face was as timeless as the Virgin of Guadalupe itself, yet older in many ways. He took the cigarette from the Anglo and drew the smoke within his lungs, holding it there for what seemed to be an eternity, and then slowly released it back into the air.
“How long you been around here?” the white man asked.

“Forever! I have been here since way back. The spirit has been good to me. I buried two wives, and have a fine daughter now.

“How old? C’mon, how old are you?”

The old Mexican peered at his friend, “I can’t tell you ‘cause I don’t know. There ain’t no paper on me. All I know is I been around a while, and I know I remember Poncho Villa.”

The barn began to fill with the smell of marijuana as the two men passed the joint back and forth between them. The white man began to feel the drug and settled back, but the Mexican man sat upright and began to stiffen, and grow glassy-eyed. He then grew silent and didn’t move for the longest time; all the while the Anglo slowly finished the joint by himself and watched his friend go into a meditation. He had seen this in his friend before and it didn’t alarm him. He just waited until the Mexican came back to his senses.



The New Salem Witchcraft Trials

Pray For California

Donald Trump May Be The Most Honest President In History

My Mormon Chronicles

Categorically Speaking

The Butcher Shop

The post CigarBox appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

My Mormon Chronicles

Fri, 11/16/2018 - 7:23am

I have a love/hate relationship in my life that I like to call my “Mormon Chronicles.” Anyone who reads me for any length of time will know that I take off after the “Saints” on a fairly regular basis, but become confused when I pen something praising their community, industrious nature, or basic faith. There are two reasons for this. First off, I really do love the Mormon culture. Brigham City reminds me of back when I was a little boy in Shreveport. When it snows the air smells like ice cream. You seem to settle down up there. Two, I’m covered UP with Temple Mormons in my family, and I’m their pet Gentile.

While Brother Theo and I did take on the powers that be up in Utah, we were in error when we thought the Church, and the Mormon people were behind what was happening in Lindsey park. We couldn’t have been farther from the truth. When we were contacted by people who spoke secretly with us, and they understood the real deal, the demographics flipped one hundred and eighty degrees.

These articles are ones that I’ve chosen from my roller coaster relationship with the “brethren.” I’ve met some of the most interesting people up there, and then I’ve met some scoundrels, too. I never argue religion with them because for all of my supposed knowledge, MY great grandparents may not have pushed one of those hand carts over the mountain behind Brigham Young, but Porter Rockwell was there, and his mother was a Witt. From Boston. I’m a Witt, whose family hails from Boston. Not hard connecting those dots.

Brother Theo tells me the Hindus believe your Karma must find you, you don’t find it. Sometimes it takes more than one lifetime to do that. He said it was as if we were drawn to Utah by fate. Maybe. I really did find something in Utah. I really felt charged to protect the children there. All the children. In the desert wind I could almost hear Porter’s voice, “What took you so long?”

My Struggle With Brigham City

Brigham City

Holes in the Desert

The Child Sex Express

My Family Is Mormon

Them and Us

The Farm Boy, The Angel, and the Religion of Peace

Joseph Did You Know We’s All Gonna Ride The Train?

New Baby and the Trip to Bountiful

Ok Lunger. Let’s do it!

The Butcher Shop

The post My Mormon Chronicles appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


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