I had the American Dream in my hands and I watched as it slipped between my fingers and blew away. I was so close, it's amazing the adrenalin pump $2.5 million will give you. One thing is for sure, I am not done here. I'll run and gun all day and night. You can tax me all you want, I'll laugh at you when you realize I won. Sometimes change is a good thing, these next four years are going to be profitable.
All I'm saying is I want an American doctor that can't leave the country if they kill me. Is that so difficult?
I cant help but wonder where feminist's stand on the mass muslim invasion of Europe, and the mass rapes that are following...
I can't help but feel bad for everyone. I observe them struggle, and it's painful to watch. You work to work.. You don't invest into your future because you can't when your paycheck barely pays the bills. Your fridge is empty, your gas tank is on empty, and your paying for healthcare that you don't need but you have no choice when Uncle Sam holds a gun to your head. Half your pay check gets stolen before you even get to cash it, and within a day or two it's gone, and all you can do is watch that -$__ dive further and further endebt. This is the enslavement of America that we were all wormed about by intelligent men throughout history. So now you work...not to better yourself, not to have nice things..not even to stay afloat..now you work to produce income for someone you never met...you work to put yourself further in debt.. It's clever how they enslaved you but you can't realize just how deep the rabbit hole goes.
But what if I told you I could help you get out? Who would be willing to fight for their life back? Who would refuse to just work for free? Who is angry enough to do something about it and change your life? I offer you the scene from the matrix.. You can take the blue pill and go own with your enslavement and pretend you never heard this..or you can take the red pill..and I can show you the way.
Im glad to have been the last generation to be honored with the American dream. It is something that history books will speak of long after our bones are dust. I was honored with being the last generation to fight for what was right, to pick up a rifle and hunt evil through the darkness of the night, through the darkest nightmares that only a gifted few survived to have explained. It was an honor being the last generation who had the intestinal fortitude, the spine, and grit to do what was needed for our people.
Three things in life to remember..
1. death is inevitable, you cant escape it, you cant hide from it. You can only fight it for so long, and then you punch out. the good news...you cant have death without life, unfortunetly you cant have life without death either. the two go hand in hand like some sick mind fuck. The best thing you can do is stare death in the face while you fight her, smile, and give that bitch a run for her money. Remember, as captain hook once said.."Death is tge last great adventure!" so enjoy the ride fuckers.
2. There is no try, only do. so don't half ass anything. leave everything better then you found it, and lead by example. You might not be tge smartest son of a bitch out there, but I aint ever met a lad who cared while his life was on tge line and you got his back. Protect your honor to the grave, fight relentlessly for what you feel is right, and when everyone tells you your wrong, or it cant be done...take that as a challange and proove those fuckers wrong.
3. Dont be a bitch.. stand your ground, but choose your battles wisely. Don't let your sacrifices be in vain. Make every drop of blood and swet count.
Why are white men deemed "dangerous" by Muslims and Black communities? I keep asking myself that, and I don't see a realistic answer. It seem's like a racist comment by black supremacists too me.
Could you believe the sea's of dead carried me to and from the gates of Valhalla, where I took so many son's, and lost so many brothers. Would you believe that I don't like talking about myself or what I've had to do outside of these diaries written in fire and blood? I was your sword, your shield, your life and light, and in return for being yours I lost my own. A harsh trick that is played by the gods, to give you the ability to save others but not one's self. I can spark iron, and clash metal with bone, but I can't remember who I used to be. I can never be who I used to be. I have tried to bring back my smile and my wit but all i have now is my public silence and my quite gaze. A unknown sacrifice to do what I've done. A pact sealed with my dying breath, I should have listened to the river man. My deeds will forever be lost in the fog of war, I've conquered the men of the East, the South, the North, but I never found an adversary worthy of a honorable death. This is not just some soliloquy, this is my life story. If one looks closely they can see the truths behind Loki's encryption, any maybe...maybe they can help me find meaning again. Maybe they can help me stand on my own two feet again, and give me purpose. For as strong as I am forged, my body has gone cold, and now I lay as cold steel frosted at the hilt. I've come across many in my journey, the Huntress, the Trickster, the Beserker, the Lord himself, but the only order I was given was to await the storm, and then sail to glory. Although I am sure the Huntress will accompany myself, I am unclear on the rest. Give me orders my lord, I long to hunt once more.
I used to be important, I was a god of men, as that fine sand brushed along my face my life had meaning. I remember stretching my wings and gliding through the air, snatching evil men from their sleep at night. I was once serving a purpose, not what you see now. Not rusting away in a life that seems to have no place for me. I'm happy there is peace, but that and I are like water and fire. I do not want to eat, I want to hunt. I miss the sky's, and the green hue of the horizon beyond the mountain tops. The radio chatter while engaged in frenzy of fire with Valkyries screeching as they fly between us rafting their claws on the dirt and sand as they plucked our dead away. The feel alone of the very touch on my cheek as lady death elegantly walked past my soul, her smile as she hunted with ease those who gave their last breath. Watching her point them out and at her very command, Valkyries carry off her prey. The very baptism in fire and blood, the taste of warm iron, and salty swet. I used to be important..
I am looking for an artist to help me modify and put the final touch ups on my half sleeve tattoo i made while i was deployed. If anyone would be interested, please let me know, Im not great at drawing or design so its in need of a little love before i find someone to put it in my skin.