Free Republic

Sorry, previous post was the wrong one.

Here's the right one:

http://www.network54.com/Forum/thread?forumid=211833&messageid=1088370788

http://waldo.jaquith.org/blog/2005/02/wwi-photos/trackback/

What is the possibility that either CIA or military psy-ops orchestrated the photo/story of the "kidnapped" toy soldier as a means to send a message of "screw you" to the insurgent terrorists that Iraq's fledgling Democracy is off and running, despite their threats??

Another Clinton appointee.

After hearing his rant, I submit that the future of the Democratic Party is quite bleak.

This Judge Piersol, and the two judges in Ohio, are, guess what???

None other than Clinton appointees.

Not true. Daschle stood for re-election the first time in 1992.

No, I don't think so.

One week after the first press conference on this, Daschle's people are refusing comment.

Please spread the word.

Daschle addressed an EMILY's List fundraiser in Washington, D.C. on April 1, 2004.

He has three video clips of this on his PAC's homepage "www.dashpac.org" under "Agenda."

They are unreachable unless you properly sequence the URLs which were likely transposed to deny access.

They are available at www.daschledocuments.com."

His campaign is refusing to release the full 15 minute video tape, which is certain to expose him making openly pro-abortion comments. Entirely counter to his television ad campaign he is running.

We need to start a nation wide push calling on Daschle to release the video tape and transcript.

Daschle's negatives have gone up four points in the last two weeks.

Spread the word far and wide.

Zero credibility.

Link at bottom of webpage not working.

Dug up the text.....

What's happened to Tom Daschle?

He's changed so much.

When Tom Daschle ran for Congress he was for a balanced-budget amendment….but on the brink of passage, he voted no.

In his last campaign, Tom Daschle said he didn't support gun control but now he votes against law-abiding gun owners.

Daschle once called abortion quote "an abhorrent practice"….but now he raises money for the nation's biggest pro-abortion group.

Tom Daschle even let his colleagues block confirmation of a respected judge….. just because of the judge’s “deeply held” religious beliefs.

And just this year Daschle said he "opposed gay marriage," yet he didn't vote for the Federal Marriage Amendment.

Tom Daschle has changed.

He just doesn't represent South Dakota values like he used to.

But John Thune shares our values…he's conservative….independent…and he never forgets where he comes from.

The Ave Maria List Political Action Committee paid for and is responsible for the content of this advertising. avemarialist.org. Not authorized by any candidate or candidate’s committee.

This ad is really stirring up things in South Dakota.

You CAN find it on CSPAN.

I watched it this a.m.

A desperate "flailing arms" speech.

I see that Edwards is also sporting one of those same bracelets.

What gives????????????????????????????

Does anyone know what the yellow bracelet on his left wrist is all about???????????????????

Just like the Church, the NCPB is pro-life, unlike Kerry.

As you will note, the Sisters of Life are one of the entities benefitting from the event, and they are unambiguously pro-life.

Hope you can make it, and if not, at minimum, send a donation to support our efforts.

The poem you refer to is entitled: "Paul Revere's Ride" is by Henry Wadworth Longfellow 1804-1882. You will find it below, and it is quite enjoyable.

Paul Revere's Ride

Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march

By land or sea from the town tonight,

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch

Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--

One, if by land, and two, if by sea;

And I on the opposite shore will be,

Ready to ride and spread the alarm

Through every Middlesex village and farm,

For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar

Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,

Just as the moon rose over the bay,

Where swinging wide at her moorings lay

The Somerset, British man-of-war;

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar

Across the moon like a prison bar,

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified

By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street,

Wanders and watches with eager ears,

Till in the silence around him he hears

The muster of men at the barrack door,

The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,

And the measured tread of the grenadiers,

Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,

By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,

To the belfry-chamber overhead,

And startled the pigeons from their perch

On the somber rafters, that round him made

Masses and moving shapes of shade, --

By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,

To the highest window in the wall,

Where he paused to listen and look down

A moment on the roofs of the town,

And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,

In their night-encampment on the hill,

Wrapped in silence so deep and still

That he could hear,

like a sentinel's tread,

The watchful night-wind, as it went

Creeping along from tent to tent,

And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"

A moment only he feels the spell

Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread

Of the lonely belfry and the dead;

For suddenly all his thoughts are bent

On a shadowy something far away,

Where the river widens to meet the bay, --

A line of black that bends and floats

On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,

Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride

On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.

Now he patted his horse's side,

Now gazed at the landscape far and near,

Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,

And turned and tightened his saddle girth;

But mostly he watched with eager search

The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,

As it rose above the graves on the hill,

Lonely and spectral and somber and still.

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height

A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!

He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,

But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight

A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,

A shape in the moonlight,

a bulk in the dark,

And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark

Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:

That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,

The fate of a nation was riding that night;

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,

Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,

And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,

Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;

And under the alders, that skirt its edge,

Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,

Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock,

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.

He heard the crowing of the cock,

And the barking of the farmer's dog,

And felt the damp of the river fog,

That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,

When he galloped into Lexington.

He saw the gilded weathercock

Swim in the moonlight as he passed,

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,

Gaze at him with a spectral glare,

As if they already stood aghast

At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was one by the village clock,

It was two by the village clock,

When he came to the bridge in Concord town.

He heard the bleating of the flock,

And the twitter of birds among the trees,

And felt the breath of the morning breeze

Blowing over the meadows brown.

And one was safe and asleep in his bed

Who at the bridge would be first to fall,

Who that day would be lying dead,

Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read,

How the British Regulars fired and fled, --

How the farmers gave them ball for ball,

From behind each fence and farmyard wall,

Chasing the red-coats down the lane,

Then crossing the fields to emerge again

Under the trees at the turn of the road,

And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;

And so through the night went his cry of alarm

To every Middlesex village and farm, --

A cry of defiance and not of fear,

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,

And a word that shall echo forevermore!

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,

Through all our history, to the last,

In the hour of darkness and peril and need,

The people will waken and listen to hear

The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,

And the midnight message of Paul Revere.