my share of lightheartedness

The year was 1896, and Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy experienced two life-changing events. One was tragic; one wasn’t. First, his son, Ivan Lvovich, died. Vanichka, as he was called, was only seven years old, and Tolstoy’s last child.

Second, two months later, Tolstoy learned to ride a bicycle. He was 67 years old.

Lighthearted Leo Tolstoy

Lighthearted Leo Tolstoy

Moskovskoye Obshchestvo Lyubiteley Velosipede (the Moscow Society of Velocipede-Lovers — and no, I’m not making this up) gave Tolstoy a bicycle and offered him instruction on how to operate the machine. To everybody’s surprise, he quickly became a devoted cyclist, riding along his garden paths most mornings after writing. Tolstoy on a bike; in 1896 that was considered a major news story. Scientific American reported on it: Count Leo Tolstoy…now rides the wheel, much to the astonishment of the peasants on his estate.

One of Tolstoy’s friends was considerably less enthused. He wrote: “Tolstoy has learned to ride a bicycle. Is this not inconsistent with Christian ideals?” Tolstoy’s reply:

I feel that I am entitled to my share of lightheartedness and there is nothing wrong with enjoying one’s self simply, like a boy.

Dude was right. No doubt about it. We’re all entitled to a share of lightheartedness. And there’s nothing wrong with enjoying oneself like a boy. I do it all the time. I did it last Friday, in fact. And though I forgot to take my camera, I did take my phone — which like all modern phones, takes photographs.

What was once a lumber yard

What was once a lumber yard

As a camera, the Nexus 4 is a great cell phone. It’s not bad as a camera, you understand. It’s just not…well, a camera. Still, it’s good enough that when I rode by this old lumber yard on the way out of town, I had to stop and shoot the photo. It’s not that old, the lumber yard. I mean, it’s not like Tolstoy-old. But it’s semi-beat up and sort of weathered, and it’s a pretty sort of almost-yellow, so worth a photo. If I’d had my actual camera with me, I’d have ridden around the place and given it more attention. Maybe.

Here’s the thing about being an informal member of the American Midwest Society of Velocipede-Lovers: you almost always have to deal with wind. And heat, in the summer. Wind and heat can play merry hell with bicycle-riding photographer’s attitude. And that day was both hot and windy. We’re talking steady 18 mph winds with gusts up to 27mph. Riding into the wind is great exercise.

I fucking hate exercise.

Some sort of storage shed, plus a tree

Some sort of storage shed, plus a tree

I stopped occasionally to drink some water. Some serious cyclists I know always refer to this as ‘hydration.’ They hydrate themselves. I’ve actually heard them say it, right out loud. “I gotta hydrate.” Then later they re-hydrate themselves. They engage in periodic hydration management. That’s some serious business, hydration. Nothing lighthearted about it. Which is why I just pause now and then and drink some water.

I should note that Tolstoy never, not once, in all the tens of thousands of pages he wrote, ever referred to hydration. It would have astonished the peasants on his estate.

Bike trail intersection

Bike trail intersection

One of the disconcerting things about riding a bicycle in the American Midwest is how abruptly town transitions into farmland. One moment you’re noodling your bike down house-lined streets, then you’re riding through old, out-dated semi-industrial areas, and suddenly without any real warning you discover you’re actually out in the country. You know…where they grow things. Like crops. Soybeans and corn and…and maybe that’s it. I don’t know. But there are massive fields full of green growing things.

And none of it blocks the wind.

There's a lot of not much out here

There’s a lot of not much out here

On the other hand, after you’ve spent forty-five minutes riding northwest into an 18mph headwind, you can turn your bike homeward and enjoy the rare pleasures of an 18mph tailwind. You hardly have to put foot to pedal. You sit upright and the wind will blow you most of the way home.

Riding with the wind is a lot more fun than riding into it — but the fact is, just getting on a bike is enough to make you lighthearted. Tolstoy learned that. At 67 years of age, he learned it. Even after the horrorshow of his youngest child’s death, Tolstoy learned that simply by putting his bony ass on a bicycle seat, he could become lighthearted. It doesn’t change anything, of course. Riding a bike won’t actually make anything better. But it will temporarily lighten the heart. And that’s good for you.

And hey, maybe you can astonish some peasants. It’s good for them.

i got your 2nd amendment right here

Sometimes people–good people, under most circumstances–just get fed up. There’s only so much provocation a person can take. There’s only so much crap a person should have to put up with. And when you hit that limit…well, sometimes you just have to shoot somebody.

Take Margie Ramey, for example. She lives in Rogersville, Tennessee, and for some time she’s had problems with folks using her driveway to turn around. It’s her driveway, dammit, and folks ought to respect that. But did Oscar Scott of Rose Hill, Virginia and his wife and their five young children respect the sanctity of the Ramey driveway? No, they did not.

Margie Ramey

Margie Ramey

Scott and his family (the kids are between four and twelve years old) had spent the day enjoying themselves at nearby Bays Mountain Park. They got a wee bit lost and used Margie’s driveway to turn around. So she naturally opened fire on them. Hell, it was only a couple of shots, and only one of them actually hit the vehicle (pretty good shooting for a 72 year old woman sitting on her porch a hundred and fifty feet away). It’s not like anybody got hurt or anything.

Now if one of those Scott family hooligans had taken a leak on her property…well, that’d be a different story. That would be a story more like James Robert Crocker’s.

Crocker, of rural Steelville, Missouri (as opposed to urban Steelville), has also had his troubles with folks who just go and trespass on his property. Or trespass real close to his property. He lives on the Meramec River and he’s not quite clear on whether his property includes the gravel bar (which I assume is like a sandbar, only with…you know…gravel) that borders the river. And in his defense, nobody in Missouri seems quite sure where property rights end on the Meramec. If the river is navigable, then the entire river (including gravel bars that are underwater for part of the year) are open to the public.

James Robert Crocker

James Robert Crocker

The friends and family of Paul Dart certainly assumed the river was navigable since they were navigating it, after a fashion. They were tubing down the river (an annual family event for the last half decade or so) when one of the group experienced the need to relieve his bladder. Rather than just let go in the river, the group beached their tubes on a gravel bar — which just happened to be the gravel bar that may or may not have belonged to James Robert Crocker.

As I understand it, Crocker couldn’t actually see the Dart party from his home…but he could hear them. And being familiar with his Constitutional rights, Crocker was not going to allow a stranger to just urinate willy-nilly on gravel that might, in some capacity, belong to him. America didn’t fight a war in Vietnam so total strangers could piss on any tiny riparian rocks they wanted to, after all. So he approached the group, 9mm pistol in hand, and demanded they put away their penises and leave.

Paul Dart stepped in between Crocker and the unfortunate man whose bladder had started the problem. So Crocker shot him in the face.

Now, granted, Paul Dart hadn’t so much as unzipped his pants, let alone urinated in anger. But Crocker didn’t care. “I just shot the one closest to me,” he told the police.

Paul Dart died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

See, this is the problem. When gun rights advocates say “Guns don’t kill people; people kill people” they ignore the fact that people kill people easier and more often because they have guns. Right now, Margie Ramey (who was released on bail) probably regrets she had her rifle close to hand when the Scott family used her driveway. Right now, James Robert Crocker (who didn’t get released on bail) probably regrets carrying his handgun down to the gravel bar.

But they did have easy access to their guns, and children were put in danger for the crime of using Margie Ramey’s driveway and Paul Dart was stupidly murdered because his cousin urinated on a gravel bar that James Robert Crocker wasn’t even sure he owned.

Sometimes people–good people, under most circumstances–just get fed up. When that happens and there’s a firearm nearby, somebody could die and the lives of several families are shattered. And you know what? It just isn’t worth it.

the cat vomited

You wake up. You struggle against the gravitational pull of the bed and get to your feet. You head for the coffee pot, reminding yourself that yes your damaged knees ache right now, but the pain will diminish over the next hour or so as you move about. Before you reach the coffee pot you discover the cat vomited during the night.

It’s a small thing. A truly small thing, even for the cat — who is sitting lazy-eyed in the sun by the window, completely unconcerned. It’s a small thing, but it has to be dealt with. It has to be cleaned up, which you can do as soon as the coffee has been started.

In a bit you’re sitting in front of the computer, your knees hardly ache at all, there’s a cup of Kona to one side, the cat vomit has been cleaned, the sun is shining, and you see this:

earth and moon 900 billion miles

The Earth and the moon, from nearly nine billion miles away

Fifteen years, nine months, and six days ago the Cassini-Huygens satellite was hurled into space atop a Titan IV rocket. It’s mission was to study Saturn, and it’s been in orbit around that planet since 2004. But a few days ago, the satellite turned its cameras homeward.

That’s the Earth, that sparkly bit right there in the middle. The Earth and the moon, seen from 898,410,414 miles away.

When I say That’s the Earth what I mean is That’s you and me. That’s everybody we know, and everybody we’ve ever known, and everybody we’ve ever heard about or read about. Shakespeare lived on that little sparkly bit, and Dashiell Hammett. Woody Guthrie made music on that sparkly bit, and so did Mozart and Cole Porter. Pablo Picasso noodled around that sparkly bit for more than ninety years, splashing dabs of genius all over the place. Seventy-some years ago that sparkly bit was involved in a war that spanned three of its seven continents. At least five times in its life, that sparkly bit has been largely covered with ice.

Seen from a distance of nearly nine billion miles, an ice age seems like just a passing phase. World War II, just a small thing. Mozart, a blip. Picasso? Well, he had cats. And you can be sure those cats occasionally vomited, and likely Picasso had to clean it up.

the cat, from just over five feet away

the cat, from just over five feet away

This is the cat that vomited. The photo was taken about the same time Cassini-Huygens took the photo of the Earth and the moon. This cat doesn’t care about Picasso, or world wars, or ice ages, or satellites hurled nearly nine billion miles into space. This cat doesn’t even care that she vomited, not really. She doesn’t have to clean it up.

Distance gives you perspective. Proximity gives you life. We can create marvelous technological feats, we can inflict horrific depredations on our planet — but the cat will still vomit and somebody has to clean it up.

salvage & coffee

Okay, first — free wi-fi. Who doesn’t love free wi-fi? It’s free, it’s wireless, and it’s…I don’t know. Something that begins with fi. Fizzy, maybe. Doesn’t matter. It’s free and you can connect to the Intertubes, and that’s what counts.

Second, there’s a coffee shop that also serves an Italian soda, which is a lot like an egg cream. It’s not an egg cream; I’m confident they don’t use U-bet Chocolate Flavor Syrup, which is absolutely essential in the making of an egg cream. But considering this is the Midwest, it’s close enough. The basics are there: seltzer, milk or cream, flavored syrup in a chilled glass. It’s light and cool and refreshing, which is what you want in the summer. They serve coffee as well, of course.


I declare, every square inch of ceiling space is covered with light fixtures

Finally, there are three floors filled with stuff salvaged from hither and yon. Not just hither, mind you, and not just yon — hither AND yon. Chicago, St. Louis, New York, London — you get the idea. Hither. Yon.

So, to recap: free wi-fi, Italian soda (almost an egg cream) and coffee, architectural salvage. All in the same old warehouse building. It’s called West End Salvage and Coffee Shop. It’s located directly beside the 9th Street viaduct and three blocks from the County Jail. I love this place.

west end salvage and coffee

West End Salvage & Coffee — that’s it on the left

They don’t mind if folks just wander around and look at stuff. Hell, they encourage folks to just wander around and look at stuff. “Hey folks,” they say, “go wander around. Look at stuff.” And that’s exactly what folks do. The place is sort of a combination of a maze and a warren, so you often hear the voices of folks you can’t see, saying things like “Ooh, look at that” or “What the hell is that thing?” or “I want that — I don’t know what it is or what it does, but I want it.”

I’ve said each of those things myself.

I could totally justify buying any of these things

I could totally justify buying any of these things

It’s the sort of building where you step around a massive wooden cupboard and find a stereopticon sitting on a beat-up old printer’s cabinet. Or an un-restored organ standing beside a plastic double-sink, near a crate containing a collection of large metal gears. If you’re ever in need of a tin box, this place has several dozens in sizes ranging from tiny enough to fit a pair of earrings to enormous enough to bury a rhinoceros. And chairs, lawdy these people have chairs. And mirrors. All over the fucking place, chairs and mirrors. And tables. And and and.

Yeah, that's me under the table in the mirror that's behind the leaded glass window

Yeah, that’s me under the table in the mirror that’s behind the leaded glass window

All those mirrors can be startling. You’re always catching reflections out of the corner of your eye. Your own reflection, the reflections of other people. And since the mirrors are often semi-hidden behind other stuff, those reflections can be a tad startling. You’re not always expecting to see a face peep out from under a table, or from behind a sign written in the Tibetan alphabet explaining something about goat husbandry.

There are lots of signs here. Hanging on the wall, leaning against an old sofa, standing on tables. Signs for products, instructional signs, place-name signs. Even an old sign written in bad English explaining the rules for prostitutes wanting to do business with the U.S. 8th Army stationed in Korea.

I have no idea what street loltexing might be, but apparently it must be restrained

I have no idea what street loltexing involves, but apparently it must be restrained

Some of the stuff you see has been refurbished or repurposed. Some of it’s in the process of being refurbished or repurposed (it’s not uncommon to hear the sound of power tools whining). But most of the stuff is just casually strewn about by folks with an intuitive sense of color and aesthetics. You really get the sense that somebody made a deliberate decision to arrange that blue male torso between that pair of old floodlights.

You see that same sense of unhurried thoughtfulness in design almost everywhere in the building. Almost everywhere.

Just behind the torso's butt you can see the stairs leading up to more stuff and down to the coffee shop

Just behind the torso’s butt you can see the stairs leading up to more stuff and down to the coffee shop

Oh, there are areas where stuff is just gathered higgledy-piggledy, but there are enough instances where the arrangement is so aesthetically pleasing that it can’t be accidental.

At some point you stop saying to yourself “That would be a great photo prop.” At some point you stop asking yourself “If I owned that, where would I put it?” At some point you realize you just want to move into the building.

Okay, so it's not all arranged with an eye toward aesthetics

Okay, so it’s not all arranged with an eye toward aesthetics

I’m told that the West End Salvage & Coffee folks have a make-over show on the Home and Garden Television cable channel. You know the type of show I’m talking about. Some folks are bored with their normal old living room and want to turn it into something that’s more representative of who they are as individuals — so they hire somebody to design and furnish a room for them. One of those shows.

I haven’t seen it (though I’m a big fan of HGTV). I haven’t bothered to watch it on account of who cares? I mean, there are dozens of those shows, and West End Salvage is much too cool to be wasted on that stuff. They ought to be doing shows on the stuff they salvage — where it came from, who made it, why the salvage job has become necessary, what the salvaged thing does, and what eventually happens to it.

You guys, it's a stereopticon, just sitting right there

You guys, it’s a stereopticon, just sitting right there

I don’t know about you, but I’d definitely watch a show that told me the general history of stereopticons, and where this one was made, and by whom, and who originally bought it, and who’d buy it now, and what they intended to do with it. That would be SO much more interesting to watch than seeing some folks have their dining room re-done.

And hey, maybe have a go at some street loltexing

And hey, maybe have a go at some street loltexing

On the other hand, if they did a really cool show then maybe West End Salvage and Coffee would be overrun by tourists. So maybe it’s for the best. Because, c’mon — free wi-fi, something sorta kinda close to an egg cream from the coffee shop, and floors of architectural salvage? Who wants to fuck that up by having hordes of fat-walleted HGTV fanboys and girls cluttering up the place? Not me.

it starts when you’re always afraid

We tend to think dogs that snap and bite are aggressive dogs. Mean dogs. Junkyard dogs. Dominant dogs.

Let me quote Gershwin: it ain’t necessarily so. In the dog world there’s a social behavior known as ‘fear-biting.’ It happens when a shy, timid, fearful dog is placed in an unfamiliar or anxiety-producing situation — a situation it doesn’t know how to handle. The dog responds (often even to friendly behavior) by baring its teeth, by lashing out, by biting. Not out of aggression, but out of fear. It’s a panic reaction.

fear biter

George Zimmerman is a fear-biter. I don’t think he followed Trayvon Martin and killed him simply because Martin was black. I think he followed Martin and killed him because Martin was black and Zimmerman was afraid. I think Zimmerman carried a firearm because he was afraid. I think his fear caused him to respond irrationally to a threat that didn’t exist. And I think there are a lot of George Zimmermans out there.

The United States has become a nation ruled by fear-biters. A lot of our social policies are grounded in fear, and much of that fear is totally unfounded. We’re afraid of terrorists, so we find ways to weasel around the law in order to round up the people we’re afraid of and lock them away forever where we can’t see them. ‘Indefinite detention’ and ‘enhanced interrogation’ are other forms of fear-biting.

gitmo inmate

We’re afraid of criminals, so we weaken the laws that protect the innocent in the hope we’ll find some security against the guilty. Mandatory minimum sentences and ‘three strikes’ laws and the undermining of Miranda warnings — all forms of fear-biting.

We’re afraid we’re going to be attacked by strangers, so we make it easier to buy guns and to carry guns and to use guns in self-defense without punishment. Concealed Carry laws and Stand Your Ground laws — it’s all fear-biting.

We’re afraid somebody is going to take our stuff, so we live in gated communities and install alarm systems and hire private security firms to patrol our neighborhoods and organize armed volunteers to wander around at night just in case a stranger in a hoodie happens to pass through — nothing but fear-biting.

thug life

Conservative politicians are afraid they’ll lose their power when white folks become a numerical minority in the U.S., so they pass laws that make it more difficult for minorities to vote and they create twisted, nightmare-shaped Congressional districts that effectively ghetto-ize minority voters. Voter ID laws and re-districting — just political fear-biting.

Men are afraid of independent women, so they pass arbitrary laws to regulate and limit a woman’s access to health-care and create an entertainment industry that relegates women to sexualized toys and support a culture that tells women to avoid being raped instead of telling men not to rape. Mandatory transvaginal ultrasound laws, ‘slut-shaming’ and hatred of feminists are forms of male fear-biting.


English as the official language — fear-biting. Marriage only between a man and a woman — fear-biting. Anger because somebody says ‘Happy holidays’ instead of ‘Merry Christmas — fear-biting. Aggression against street photographers — fear-biting.

Not all fear is irrational, but irrational fear is the parent of cruelty. And the fact is the citizens of the United States aren’t very much at risk of a terrorist attack. The vast majority of us are in no danger of being victims of violent crimes at the hands of strangers. Having ethnic, racial, or religious minorities in Congress isn’t going to result in a backlash against white Christians. And women who have control over their own reproductive nature aren’t a threat to men.

We don’t have to be afraid of people who aren’t like us. We have nothing to fear from Muslims or gay folks or people who speak another language or black folks or people taking photos in public.

What we need to be afraid of is a society of fear-biters.

abe lincoln was wrong

Two or three times a week I get asked what I think about the George Zimmerman trial. I get asked because I used to be a private detective specializing in criminal defense work, and because I’ve seen a lot of criminal trials, and because I used to teach criminology, and because I write about crime and criminal stuff. So a lot of folks think I’m going to be interested in this trial.

But I’m not.

Oh, it’s a meaty trial, to be sure. There’s lots of drama in it, and if it wasn’t real it would make great theater. We have a young kid, innocently walking from a convenience store back to the condo where his father was staying. We have an over-eager wanna-be cop acting as a community watch volunteer acting on unfounded suspicion. And once they meet up, massive strata of mistrust and class resentment and racism and social angst kick in. The kid ends up dead. Shot once in the chest at extremely close range.

It’s a compelling story. But it’s just not an interesting trial. It’s not interesting for a couple of reasons. First, we basically know all the pertinent facts that are knowable. Second, none of those facts pertain to the only legal question that matters: the question of whether George Zimmerman acted in self-defense. And even that’s not very interesting since Florida law is pretty clear on the issue.

766.13 (3) – A person who is not engaged in an unlawful activity and who is attacked in any other place where he or she has a right to be has no duty to retreat and has the right to stand his or her ground and meet force with force, including deadly force if he or she reasonably believes it is necessary to do so to prevent death or great bodily harm to himself or herself or another or to prevent the commission of a forcible felony.

That’s the entire case, right there. Every important legal question in the case, right there. We knew the answers to those questions even before Zimmerman was arrested. Was Zimmerman engaged in unlawful activity before the shooting? No, he wasn’t (nor was Trayvon Martin; but Martin isn’t on trial). Did Zimmerman have a legal right to be where he was? Yes, he did (and so did Martin — but, again, Martin isn’t on trial). Was Zimmerman attacked? He certainly claims he was. He obviously got punched in the nose at some point, but that’s not really probative. There are no living direct witnesses to the initial act of aggression, so Zimmerman’s claim can’t be proved or disproved. Did Zimmerman have a reasonable belief that force was necessary to prevent his death or great bodily harm? Again, he claims he believed his life was in danger. How can we possibly know what Zimmerman believed at the moment he fired the weapon?

zimmerman in court

Does it matter that Zimmerman ignored the police dispatcher who told him not to follow the young man? No, not according to the law. Does it matter that Martin was doing nothing wrong? No, not according to the law. Does it matter that Zimmerman, by following and confronting Martin, almost certainly provoked the fatal incident? No, sadly, it doesn’t, not according to Florida law.

What does matter according to Florida law is whether Zimmerman ‘reasonably’ believed he was in danger when he pulled the trigger.

Here’s something that rarely gets mentioned very often. If Trayvon Martin had somehow managed to kill George Zimmerman during that event, he could be presenting the exact same defense Zimmerman’s lawyers are presenting now. The inherent flaw in Florida’s approach to self defense is that it necessarily favors the survivor. If the survivor claims he was, at the moment the fatal act was committed, in fear for his safety — and there’s nothing that blatantly contradicts that claim — then Florida law is on his side. In effect, Florida law rewards the person who acts first and with the most lethality. It’s that simple.

It’s a terrible law. It’s incredibly stupid and irresponsible law. But it is the law in Florida. That means George Zimmerman shot and killed an unarmed teen who was minding his own business, and it was probably legal for him to do it.

Abraham Lincoln, who was a pretty fair country lawyer in his day, once said “The best way to get a bad law repealed is to enforce it strictly.” That’s great if the bad law in question is, say, a traffic law. If you’re the victim of a bad traffic law, you can contest the issue. If the bad law is a self-defense law, the only person to address the issue is the one who fired first.

self-evident truths

It’s July 4th, Independence Day in the United States. This morning, as reported in the Washington Post, ‘President Barack Obama is urging Americans on the Fourth of July to live up to the words of the Declaration of Independence by securing liberty and opportunity for their own children as well as for future generations.’

It’s a fine patriotic sentiment, so (since I was just sitting around drinking my morning coffee) I thought I’d take a peek at what the great American patriots at thought of the president’s remarks. They were, as usual, supportive and thoughtful and loyal to the Commander in Chief.

freerepublic obama

We ought to be celebrating Egyptian-style.

nobama is such a destructive fool. his resigning today would do the day justice.

he is back in the White Hut as of yesterday or the night before. Most likely the latter. He got his photo op in the situation room discussing what they were going to do about the events in Egypt.

The ‘White Hut.’ And yet I’m pretty sure this guy would be offended if you suggested he might be a tad racist.

As if you know American History or even understand it… even if you were ever exposed to it in Indonesia… you little African marxist fagot.

No comment. 5.56mm

If you’re not familiar with firearms, you may not be aware that 5.56mm refers to the size of the cartridges originally developed for the M16 assault rifle. But no, that wouldn’t be considered any sort of threat, would it. Unless you’re a ‘fagot’ maybe.

Zero has been challenging us since day one. WHY have we NOT insurrected ?

This wouldn’t be the same Declaration that little Mohammed was taught to despise,as a child,by his whore mother and his filthy (white) Communist grandfather,would it?

Yesterday picked up a bunch of $2 bills. My favorite ones. If you don’t already know, it is the one with Jefferson on the front and a depiction of the signing of the Declaration of Independence on the back. His excellency should have a bill with his likeness on the front made…the $3 bill. On the back they can have a depiction of a fag wedding.

The Irish rebellions were always led by poets and philosophers (which, it must be admitted, is one reason their rebellions failed so often). The new American patriot rebellion would be led by people who believe ‘insurrect’ is a word.

freerepublic obama3

doesn’t he realize that he’s making the case that we should appeal to our G.O.D.s [Government Overhaul Device; i.e. guns]?

Only Obama could make the Declaration of Independence sound like a pact with the Devil.

Does Obambi realize that his government is doing exactly the same types of things that England was doing to us back when the Declaration was written?

That’s right, Obama is doing exactly the same things. The British Parliament enacted a series of measures to increase tax revenue from the colonies to pay for a disastrous war, and Obama cut taxes for 97% of the American public and ended one disastrous war. No difference!!! There was absolutely no political representation of American colonists in Parliament, and Obama has to deal with a Republican Congress whose only goal is to obstruct any legislation the president wants passed. It’s exactly the same!!!

Such disgust i have for this Muslim Brotherhood piece of pig slop.

“free to think and worship and live as they please” Uh, no, just ask the Catholics about your birth control mandate.

This would be the mandate that requires private insurance plans to cover women’s preventive health care services, like breast exams and pap smears, maternity care, HPV testing, gestational diabetes screening, breastfeeding support, FDA-approved contraception and contraceptive counseling. Because that totally deprives Catholics of the right to think and worship and live as they please.

“Don’t axe me to read dis Constitushun thang ’cause I can’t read cursive, SIR!”

I really think he WANTS a violent confrontation so bad that he may pull a falseflag before the end. Ask yourself what he would have ever done different if this wasn’t his goal?

Well, of course, it’s perfectly obvious. President Obama is deliberately trying to provoke a violent confrontation with the American public by…by…being the president. And once he instigates this violent confrontation, he’ll…he’ll…have all the white gun-owning Christians put into re-education camps and then ACORN will elect him President of the United States. Again.