Friday, July 20, 2018

Friday Night Memes

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Warning To Parents!

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Ashley Bradley

WARNING FOR ALL PARENTS. . . I was just home with my son putting him down for a nap when a lady knocked on my door saying she was with Delaware county cps and they were here to remove ja'vonni from my care at first I was so mad and hurt I wasn't thinking right but the I realized that she 1. Didn't have a state issued badge, 2. My son's name was spelled wrong on the folder she had in her hand and 3. I have no cps cases so they would not have been coming to my house. When I asked her for prove of who she is she got an attitude and stated I just told u who I am I then told her I was going to call the police and went to get my phone she was standing on my porch as i would not let her into my home. When I walked back out into my living room from getting my phone she was walking very fast around the corner of my house. . I contacted the police my son is going to stay with someone safe for a few days until I can get my house set up to where "if" someone attempts to cp.e in and take my child they will leave in a body bag!!!! He said people come from different countries and states kidnap kids and traffic them it does not matter what the age. . . Sooo this mom is going to make sure her baby is safe and for anyone who experiences this lock your door call the cops and keep ur kids with u till they get there
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They Done Him Wrong - REALLY (a video link)

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https://www.facebook.com/roy.hall.3348/videos/2047342831951700/
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Firing Bad Federal Workers May Get Easier (a link)

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https://www.dailysignal.com/2018/07/19/firing-a-bad-federal-employee-may-get-a-little-easier/
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Baltimore Bans Sodas From Kid's Menus (a link)

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https://www.chicksonright.com/youngcons/2018/07/19/were-doomed-1st-major-u-s-city-bans-soda-from-kids-menus/?utm_source=spn
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Ninja Shortage! (a link)

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https://www.offthegridnews.com/current-events/japan-faces-ninja-shortage-depopulation/
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"Wise" Words From The Commie Pope (a link)

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https://yournewswire.com/pope-francis-world-government-rule/
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No Dew This Morning


When I took Her Royal Lowness out to drain and dump at 6:30 this morning, I noticed there wasn't a speck of dew. Growing up, Dad always told me that a dewless morning meant rain was on its way, and it always proved true. Sometimes it came within an hour of dawn; sometimes it was 24 hours later, but it always came. The morning dryness came as no real surprise, though, as the weather guy is predicting a week of rain coming, if you can believe such folks.

Since the lawn was needing mowed rather badly already, I sat on the porch with the pooch a while, ate a little something on top of my morning pills, went online a while and took care of my morning's bathroom requirements, then decided if I woke the missus she'd just have to howl. It was 8:30 by then.

The blades are getting dull, so I didn’t go too fast, but the grass was thin enough that I didn’t have to creep, either. There was a mix of sun and cloud, it was fairly cool and there was a little breeze. If it wasn’t for the slope and roughness of our country lawn, the task would have been almost enjoyable.
I mowed the Mighty Dachshund’s dumping ground, near the front of the house, before anything else. If the rain came or the mower went down, I wanted her little backside to stay as dry as possible during the coming wet week. Then, I mowed the big level part of the front yard, to the right, then the narrower sloping part to the left. Following that, I mowed the two sections to the right and left of the drive out by the road, in front of the now large white pines, planted the year That I moved here, 38 years ago.

Lastly, I started mowing the small side-yard near the swing where the pooch and I spend some of our time. The missus had recovered from her sleepless night by then and came out and sat in the swing and watched me finish. She then got the pooch and we all sat outside listening to distant thunder and gazing at our now civilized-looking lawn. It had taken me only an hour and 45 minutes, my best time ever, though I wasn’t trying to set any records. I’ve had it take over four hours when the grass is heavy.

It’s nearly 5PM as I type this, and still no rain, but it will come; mark my words. Incidentally, I’ve learned that the presence of dew in the morning means absolutely nothing, only its absence. Copyright 2018
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Friday Afternoon Memes

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34 Dems And 1 Republican That Voted Against ICE (a link)

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https://www.chicksonright.com/youngcons/2018/07/19/heres-the-list-of-34-democrats-and-one-republican-who-just-voted-against-support-of-ice/?utm_source=anh
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Chapter 44 and Epilogue (The End)

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Chapter 44

The Source

After leaving the campus of the McConnell Equestrian Center, Waddington continues meandering up the narrow valley, sometimes through hobby farms and sometimes just between home sites. It also passes an auction house and a log-yard. Each little tributary now noticeably decreases the stream’s flow above such junctions and, by the time Waddington Creek passes the little Bohrmann Community Church at its junction with Cemetery Run, the creek is no more than a run itself. In fact, it has divided itself so much by this point that many locals call it Butternut Fork, rather than Waddington Creek. Still, its valley is larger than those branching off of it, so it can still be considered the main stream.
The Bohrmann church has been around for many years, though no one close knows how long. It’s a small church building, on a small lot, whose owner won’t part with it, but will lease it out. As a result, it has sat empty several times over the last few decades. Its use now seems to be as a “starter” building for new congregations formed by the split-up of other churches or by new preachers called unexpectedly to the ministry.
From the church, the Billsburg Pike starts climbing the next hill; the creek follows it, but climbs more slowly. Still, it’s within sight of the road when Waddington Creek at last reaches its source. Only a tiny rill at this point, it finally disappears beneath some may-apple leaves during warm weather, or a layer of sodden tulip poplar leaves during the cold months. From here, it’s only about a mile farther on the Billsburg Pike to Elk Wallow on the Northwestern Pike.
You’ll notice that from the time we left the Ohio River in our travels, our journey has been against the flow of the stream and thus in opposition to nature. So it is in most of life, nature seems to always run pell-mell, seeking its ultimate destiny; only man is obsessed with finding the source of things. The jury is still out as to whether that obsession is a blessing or a curse.
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Epilogue

The thump….thump….thump of the old pump engine, which sounded to Bill Day like the mighty heart of the valley, was silenced long ago; in its place stands the Better Way Baptist Church. Gone are the click and clatter of horse-drawn machinery and the chime of dinner bells telling hungry farmers that dinner is warm and plenteous; the old people and the old ways are gone. But, just as many small farmhouses disappeared with the Great Depression, many new houses are taking their place as the city slowly invades the country. Not many people flock to the Waddington’s cool waters when the temperature rockets upward in summer; air-conditioners have changed that. Still, a few show up—usually poor folks. And, though there are fewer than there used to be, fisherfolk still ply the creek’s murky waters at times, usually with children in tow.
Cattle are less plentiful in the valley now; where there once were 27 dairies, there are none these days. But, there are now four farms that run herds of beef cattle, where once there were none. And Jake McClure may have turned into a grass farmer in his old age, but Old Man Winterfield’s youngest son now has a riding stable just two farms down from Wild Horse Canyon. A mile up the road, a one-time city couple bought the old Jack Jones farm and raises miniature horses. There’s even a handful of people still living on the creek that are descended from landowners a century or more ago.
There’s an old saying that goes, “The only constant is change.” So while the old folks lament the passing of “the good ol’ days,” for many folks now living in the valley, especially the young, these are the good ol’ days. Life, like the flowing waters of Waddington Creek, moves ever onward.
 Copyright 2008

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