They say that when you’re hit, hit real bad, you examine your life. You focus on the family and friends and you cherish it all. Hold it tight. That you cherish each happy moment and hold on to it when you feel yourself slipping.
You cherish the cold. The pain. The warm pool spreading under your back. The fire and agony tearing it’s way through your body. You keep hoping for one more moment of it, because it means you’re still alive. Every new excruciating breath is relief and fear and hope and helplessness jumbled into one.
And then the medic gets there and starts yelling at you to stay awake. You feel so relieved that you can’t help but close your eyes, hoping you’ll open them again.
Tl;dr, getting shot is rather unpleasant and not at all recommended.
We’re strong, simple people. We enjoy the simple pleasures: Flannel, dirty gloves, throwing lumber onto truckbeds in slow-mo, leaning on fences, you name it. MAN do we love leaning on fences. Wood fences, wire fences — you give us a fence, we’ll lean the fuck on it.
Out here, it’s always sunrise or sunset. Are there other times in the day? We don’t know. And frankly, we don’t want to know. We’re simple like that. All we know is that this lumber has to go from here to somewhere else, and it’s up to us to move it. Also there’s horses out here so shut those greasy gates and let’s peel out into the mud.
Us? We’re all about family. When we’re not about lumber. Which is often. But we’ll swing by the son’s Little League game and rub his head when his team loses, then swing by the gal’s Little League game and rub her head when her team loses. Just let em know that it’s all gonna be ok because we love them, and we’ll get that lumber where it needs to go.
But we’re not afraid to let loose every now and then! Sometimes we go to the diner where the way-too-attractive waitress pours us coffee and gives us broad smiles. She may look like a model but she’s got flannel on and never isn’t turning around with a coffee pot so she’s one of us.
We live on a porch. Quiet. Homely. Not much call for buildings in our town — we’re not really into ‘frills’ — just give us a porch and some iced tea pitchers with the sun shining through them and we’re as happy as a pig in gloves leaning on a fence.
At night, we just admire the stars. LOVE those stars. Who needs a television when you got stars? Not us, that’s who.
My son points up at the stars as if to say “wow!” I smile. I am glad my son enjoys the stars. At least one kid gets that you don’t need ‘video games’ when you have stars. They’re like our own little tiny, glowing fences in the sky for our eyes to lean on. Truly magical.
In conclusion, I love this country.
My wife is a truck made of fences.
So if we have to show women what the baby looks like in their womb and tell them how the process works before allowing them to get an abortion, does that mean we should teach our soldiers about the culture of the lands we’re invading, and explain to them that the people we want them to kill have families and feel pain, just like Americans?
Absolutely. And since we’re forcing our beliefs and religious doctrine on others about abortion, let’s go a step further on the line of informing soldiers about enemy families and feels.
If you believe that the choice is not up to the woman, then please feel free to inform some insurgents about how Americans have feelings, too. Just after you tell a few soldiers that they don’t know dick about the war they’re fighting.
"Hold my gun, while I serve some b-boying justice."
This is beautiful and perfect and EXACTLY as the world should be.
Not to be a critical little shit, but the positive comments aren’t near as tightly rolled as the negative comments.
look it’s fine if ur not religious omg it’s 100% ok but once u start telling people that their prayers are worthless, that God isn’t listening, that He is imaginary, that Jesus didn’t exist, that their religious texts are garbage, etc. then you’re a piece of shit shut up
look it’s fine if ur religious omg it’s 100% ok but once u start telling people that wishing is more effective than doing, that if they don’t believe in the same god as you they’re going to hell, that the bible says gays are evil and should die, that your mission is to convince them that science is wrong, etc. Then you’re a hypocritical sand illiterate piece of shit, so how about YOU shut up.
Treat your religion like a dick. Be proud of it if you want. Wave it around in private if it makes you feel good. But don’t you dare try to shove it down my kid’s throat.
Keep your Christian missionary self private and I’ll do the same with my chronic masturbation.
America rants on Dunkin
Dear new-age shitfucks,
Coffee is not made to be drunk iced. Nor is it made to be drunk with foam, whipped cream, ‘chai’, sprinkle, chocolate shavings, or strawberry syrup.
It’s fucking coffee. Hot, bitter, water with a kick that isn’t even done until it has an oil slick on top that would make BP jealous. It exists to chemically motivate your self-serving ass to make some sort of contribution to society aside from being an overindulgent whore with entitlement issues.
Throw a cup at me because your pansy ass is too tight to make your own coffee and I’m throwing a half-starved badger with a taste for human blood in your car. Bitch.
Sincerely and with all our love,
This is America!
While there are an unfortunate few instances where knowing English would have been rather beneficial, we do need more bilingual speakers.
I met Anna’s brother last year outside a nightclub where I was working security around 2AM. This 20 something Mexican guy comes running up, sees the duty belt and shirt, and starts yelling, “POLICIA! POLICIA!”
I don’t speak Spanish, but I had a gut feeling as to what that meant. Until he continued on in rapid fire Spanish that I had no hope of following. I knew cuchillo meant knife, but that was all I caught. I kept trying to get information from him while my coworker called the cops, but I thought he was talking about someone in the club having a knife. So I called the rest of security and had them start looking inside for someone with a knife.
He was saying that his younger sister and he had gotten mugged a few blocks away in a back alley and that she’d been stabbed trying to keep the mugger from taking her iPhone. I was a combat medic in the Army and had a medical kit on my vest. I could have been there in time to save her, but I didn’t understand what he’d been saying. She bled out, alone in a dark alleyway, before EMS could arrive. He’s been in the United States for 4 years and doesn’t know enough English to ask for help.
Funny as the comic is, it’s a serious problem in some cases. Anna would have turned 14 a few weeks ago.