Posted on 05/10/2002 1:14:21 AM PDT by Snow Bunny
God Bless all the military spouses, moms, dads, brothers, and sisters, etc. You are all heros. :)
Thank God that Ted Olsen and the President understand that words mean things. How refreshing to see an administration that understands such a simple fact.
The Second Amendment is the amendment that in the final analysis protects all of the others.
The original intent of the framers was that every man who had reached his majority would own and know how to use his own military rifle and ammunition.
Hey, its worked for over 200 years...no one has been stupid enough to invade America since Andy Jackson and his band of farmers and assorted miscreants with their squirrel guns sent the British packing down the Mississippi with their bloody tail between their legs almost 200 years ago. Not even the Germans and the Japanese in WWII were stupid enough to think that any member of any invading force they might send to our shores would leave alive. They, like the Moslems of today, were reduced to a cowardly sneak attack raid, but certainly no invasion.
No one has ever been stupid enough to invade Switzerland, where every citizen has an automatic rifle in their closet.
Can any person in their right mind think that if the Cuban people had not been disarmed that Castro would have been able to oppress them for 40 years?
Can any sane individual think that the Chinese Communist dictators would have crushed thousands of teenagers under their tank tracks in Tiennamen Square if the Chinese people were armed?
My guns are nice to hunt with...it is a good thing that any idiot who tries to invade my household will have a gun-barrel up his nose...but in fact, those are minor issues compared to the Second Amendment's true and full purpose, which is to be the final protector of our God-given, inalienable rights, and to give pause to any potential tyrant.
Regards...EV
As long as you're going to be a tart, be a strawberry tart.
Author, Major Gene Duncan, USMC Ret.
Dear Lord,
I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my three children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.
I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Mother's Days, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Mother's Day wishes:
I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you're granting big ticket items this year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says,"Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, three kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
And please don't forget the Play-Doh Travel Pack, the hottest gift this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the In-laws' house seem just like mine.
If it's too late to wish for any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don't mind I could also use a few Mother's Day miracles to brighten my Mother's Day. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.
It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.
Well, Lord, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back.
Yours Always,
A Mom
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