It’s wonderful that the September 11th Victim Compensation Fund was finally passed by Congress, setting compensation for all injured from this terrorist act until 2090.
What’s shameful is all the bullshit and pleading needed to get this done when it should never had been a question in the first place. It should never have had to come down to the actions of any surviving first responders, former television show hosts or New York City police detectives living out their last days to get this done. It just should have been done. Period. And it should have been unanimous, not have a positive Senate vote of 97 with two bastards voting against it.
People talk about so-and-so being “un-American”. You want to know who the real un-Americans are? Rand Paul and Mike Lee. They’re not even worthy to be called “senators”.
The trailer for “A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood” was released yesterday and why has it hit me in the emotional gut like a ton of bricks? Because I’ve never cried over a movie trailer before.
Maybe it’s because the movie revolves around Fred Rogers, the beloved host of the long-running PBS children’s show “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood”. Or maybe it’s because the movie is about a skeptic who ends up seeing things more clearly as a result of his time spent interviewing Mr. Rogers? Or maybe it’s because my favorite actor Tom Hanks stars in the movie as Mr. Rogers and absolutely nails it? Maybe it’s all three and more. I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t get enough of the trailer and I have never anticipated a movie so much in my life.
The next four months are going to seem like an eternity!
Yesterday the SHITHOLE who calls himself “president” stated that four members of Congress known as “The Squad” should “go back” to the “totally broken and crime infested places from which they came”. He was so cowardice in his statement that he couldn’t even call them by name. Also, as is typical of SHITHOLE, he was idiotic to not realize that three of the four were born in the United States. Therefore, even if he was referring to their home states, the “totally broken and crime infested places from which they came” would be located in—um—the United States. The same country SHITHOLE is “president” of.
Nobody is no longer shocked by SHITHOLE’S racism. The world knows he’s a bigot. We don’t need to accept it, and for the majority of us, we don’t, nor do we turn a blind eye to it. What he says about people of color, what he’s done to people of color, even members of his own Congress, is unacceptable and is certainly not “presidential”. Then again, why would we expect anything “presidential” from someone who really isn’t a “president” but is merely a “shithole”?
Imagine if the Native Americans had told the Europeans to go back to their “totally broken and crime infested places from which they came” when they first arrived in America. Think about that the next time you want to tell a person of a different color to “go back” to a place they have never been to. Would you like it if a black person told you to go back to Ireland? Or England? Or Germany? Or, even worse, Russia? Unless you’re of Native American descent, every single person’s origin in this country lies somewhere other than in America. You may have been born here but your story began in another country.
SHITHOLE is now harking on the old “love it or leave it” bit because that’s all he has. SHITHOLE bitches about making America great again. Well, if he doesn’t think America is already great, then maybe he should leave and go live in Russia. He’d fit right in. Knowing him, he probably thinks he’s already living there.
Do yourself a favor. Don’t be a racist fuck like SHITHOLE. It’s not good for your soul.
A throwback moment to celebrate the 34th anniversary of the greatest musical moment from my generation: Live Aid.
July 13, 1985. Thirty-four years and many musical memories ago. I’m so glad I was alive to be a part of that event.
No, I wasn’t there in Philly. Nor in England. I didn’t get to ride the Concorde with Phil Collins. But I had dragged my 14-year-old ass out of bed at 5:30 a.m. on a summer weekend so I could tune into the concert of the decade. Maybe even the century.
It started around noon UK time, which put us at 6-ish. They were broadcasting the entire thing on the radio so I had my cassettes and tape recorder ready to go.
Then there was JFK Stadium in Philadelphia. To be there must’ve been something else. I longed to see Powerstation and Madonna. Waiting to see Duran Duran perform that evening was like torture. I remember getting to see the last few hours of the show broadcast on TV. Another thing to thank Dick Clark for.
Thirty years later I still have some of the cassettes that I recorded. I have the “Live Aid” book. I’ll have to scan through that later and continue with my walk down memory lane.
Such nostalgia for such an innocent time in my life…
It’s been twenty-five years since Tom Hanks forever ran into our hearts as Forrest Gump, the lovable simpleton from Greenbow, Alabama.
My first memories of “Forrest Gump” came from the numerous billboards I would see as I traveled to and from work. “Gump Happens” and “Hanks Is Gump” they read.
I know it’s a movie starring Tom Hanks, I thought. But what the hell is Gump?
I was on vacation in Florida when the movie was released and I saw clips of the film on the TV in my hotel room. Everyone was talking about it. When I saw a trailer depicting the scene where Forrest visits the White House and shows LBJ where he got shot, I knew I had to see the remainder of the film.
I had been a big Tom Hanks fan before “Forrest Gump” but his role as Forrest made me a fan for life. To date Forrest Gump is my favorite Tom Hanks’ character. Twenty-five years later this movie still resonates with me. It’s easy to remember all the scenes. All the supporting characters such as Lt. Dan, Bubba and of course, Jenny. And the quotes are something to live by.
Here’s to another twenty-five years of “Forrest Gump”.