The beatings will continue until morale improves

Not to flog a dead horse but I have one or two more post-election horror stories to share with you.

You know how we're labeled bitter haters by the left because we think people ought to work for a living instead of subsisting on government handouts?

Well.

This brazen new world we're living in has spawned a subset of welfare recipients that, upon contemplation, may just require you to apply duct tape to your skull lest it explode.

I refer to able-bodied single young men (as in, under the age of twenty-five) with no dependents, who have jobs and yet still accept welfare to augment their lifestyle.

Case in point: TG and Andrew, while hanging out together on a recent weekend, decided to do some man-style shopping.

(Which being interpreted means, a brief, carefully planned, non-spontaneous foray into the retail universe.)

Andrew needed some new dress shirts and there was a sale at a local well-known men's haberdashery chain.

The one where if you purchase a single suit you get three more suits, five shirts, twelve ties, a long-handled shoe horn, a case of Ramen noodles, and a pet ferret for free.

While there they fell into conversation with the store manager, who waited on them.

Good man; retired military.

Since I was not present I don't know how the subject came up, but at some juncture the store manager told TG and Andrew about one of his part-time employees.

A young man of college age who is in fact a college student (his employer believes the fellow is attending school on a Pell grant), who works not one but two part-time jobs.

And gets three hundred fifty dollars a month in food stamps.

TG and Andrew were laughing as they told me the story.

Andrew remarked, I make good meals for myself (one of them, a recent chicken-and-whole-kernel-corn feast, is my phone's wallpaper because the boy was so proud of himself for cooking, he sent me a picture of it) and I don't know how I could spend three hundred fifty dollars a month on groceries.

TG and I looked at one another. After a brief conferral we agreed that we eat far better than we strictly have to, and it's doubtful we spend much more than three hundred fifty dollars in an average month on groceries.

And that's for both of us.

When the men's furnishings sales clerk revealed this information to his boss, apparently they got into a small discussion about our entitlement-heavy society and what it is costing the ones who have to pay for it.

According to the manager, he asked the kid: "You do know that food stamps is considered an entitlement program, don't you?"

The young man agreed that he did know that, but added that he feels he "deserves" the food stamps.

When his employer asked him why, the boy responded: "Because my parents are divorced."

?????

Mmmmkay. By that criteria ... never mind.

Suffice it to say, this young American male is unfazed by the fact that he has his hand out to accept food money from the government, while millions in the workforce who have never been on the dole -- and yet have many times gone without necessities, not to mention luxuries -- labor to pay the bill.

The story reminded me of a conversation I had with a man of sixty-plus years old who has been a personal friend for a long time.

My friend and his wife have been gainfully employed all their adult lives. She is now retired due to health issues but he works diligently to maintain a small business that he himself built.

They have one child: a boy of around twenty-five who has had a lot of difficulty both finishing school and holding jobs.

His longsuffering father told me that there's a new wrinkle in the never-ending saga of his son's many ups and downs: although he has a job, the boy accepts food stamps.

Of course my friend could see by my face that I found that idea as repugnant as it is ludicrous. 

To his credit, he shared with me that he is ashamed his son would do such a thing. "I love my son but I do not approve of his lifestyle," my friend said.

You see, his son smokes cigarettes and drinks alcohol -- habits that can be costly in more ways than one -- and is known to frequently ... shall we say, party hearty.

I know what you're thinking: my friend was and perhaps still is lacking somewhat in effective parenting skills.

Although I would tend to agree with you (and my friend probably would too), that's another blog for another day.

But consider: A twenty-something male with a strong back and no health problems applies for and gets food stamps even though he makes enough money at a job to sustain two unhealthy vices.

I guess that's why he has a job in the first place. Priorities.

It makes me wonder how many welfare recipients save their money for beer and smokes while letting you and me take care of their grocery expenses.

Photo: Erica Weber

But of course we right-wingers are consistently characterized by the liberal media (pardon my redundancy) as bitter heartless racist haters because we think folks ought to get out of bed every morning, figure out a way to be productive, and pay their own way, doing without some luxuries if need be for the sake of integrity, decency, personal accountability, and that old standby, the greater good.

Not to mention, we're led to believe that all this welfare is for the benefit of that poor beleaguered figure glowing softly but insistently at the very core of our society, who had nothing whatsoever to do with her plight.

I speak of that most sainted and sacrosanct of American icons, the single mom.

And of course her children, who wouldn't know what to do if a meal appeared in front of them that didn't come directly from a bag or a box via McDonald's or the microwave.

(Not to mention the depth of their confusion if one of Mama's babydaddies walked through the door.)

Apparently we've all been taken for a ride on that oft-beaten equine unit.

Welfare: it ain't just for unemployed husbandless mommies and their smart-phone-textin'-EBT-card-totin' progeny anymore.

So this Thanksgiving, with the turkey and the stuffing and the cranberry sauce and the sweet taters and the green bean casserole and the yeast rolls and the pumpkin pie, perhaps we all ought to put a little plate of baloney -- or worse -- off to the side.

It could serve to keep us humble and to remind us that the left's full-frontal assault on our morals, our motives, and our money has just begun.

And still, there's so much to be thankful for.

Happy Monday! Happy Week!

If you're bad you get more cake

Folks, this is what we've come to. Might as well embrace it.

I'll be humming El Rushbo's brilliant and timely ditty as I prod TG into hauling the Christmas decorations out of the attic this weekend.

Happy Friday! Don't let the turkeys hold you up!

God is not dead, nor doth He sleep

Last week when I posted my previous offering on this blog, TG and I were preparing to go out of town to visit two of our children.

Throughout a long and very enjoyable weekend resplendent with autumn color and balmy weather, we four talked a great deal about politics.

As you may have guessed, each of us were upset about the outcome of the 2012 presidential election.

Any red-blooded patriotic American would be, and if you weren't, we haven't got much in common on either a secular or a spiritual plane.

I make that statement unequivocally and with no apology and I wouldn't dream of taking it back.

Not even if you made me watch YouTubes of Barack Obama lying talking, a punishment less humane than waterboarding.

So anyway it was much on our minds and I admit in contemplative moments to wondering how well I'd gotten my point across in my blog post.

I read it again and was most unhappy with how it sounded. I decided to get the opinion of our daughter Erica, whose judgment I value greatly and who never minces words.

Come to think of it, none of my kids do.

Does this look like someone who would smarm around?

No. You don't want to go there unless you're armed with facts. Trust me.

I haven't the slightest notion how my children acquired the belief that plain talk is most easily understood.

I'll thank you not to snicker.

At any rate what I was worrying about with regard to my blog post was whether it could be perceived as unduly braggadocious, especially when it came to my family.

Erica opined that my post did indeed have about it a whiff of self-righteous conceit.

Thanks, Little Booyah!

However, she was quick to concede that every word of it needed to be said, and in exactly the way I said it. She confirmed that she knew precisely what I meant and she believed others would too.

Still, I would like to elaborate. I hope you have about twenty minutes free and the inclination to read it all because now that I've started it's not likely I'll turn back.

First let me address the only negative comment left on that post: a hit-and-run by a quasi-anonymous lib troll.

"Bobbie" offered the stale, tired trope that Christianity would be just peachy if it weren't for Christians, paraphrasing that oft-misquoted all-knowing malodorous anorexic peacenik, Mahatma Gandhi.

He apparently would be swinging on gates of pearl today, skipping in naught but diaper and diadem down streets of purest gold, if it weren't for the egregious hypocrisy of every Christian he ever met.

But see, Gandhi had an interesting pastime involving the young female members of his ashram.

When he wasn't engaged in dispensing societal palliatives and worldly wisdom and soapless philosophy, Gandhi was into the giving and receiving of enemas.

The diminutive Hindu's imprimatur is not something I would aspire to secure, or hold in high esteem if I did.

It's a non-issue however, because unless he got over the shortcomings of Christians and trusted in the shed blood and finished work of Christ as his only hope for heaven, Mahatma Gandhi is in hell today.

When I die, by faith (not works) I am going in the other direction.

As the Scriptures admonish, let God be true but every man a liar. Liberals, you stand with Mahatma Gandhi and good luck with that. I'll stand over here with God, inadequate (and nobody knows it like me) though I may be to interpret and share His message.

There were other noteworthy reactions to the election.

One that seemed popular among Christians and non-Christians alike was the cavalier approach. As in, oh, come on! It doesn't matter who is elected leader of the free world!

While I would like to state once and for all that I do not place my faith or hope in any politician of any stripe, I would be ashamed of myself if I were ever enough of a dolt to assert that we'll end up in the same place no matter who's driving the car.

"The sun still rose [the day after the election]" is a refrain as often heard as it is stupid.

As my daughter Audrey pointed out, the sun still rose the day after Hitler invaded Poland in September of 1939. But if you think the Polish Jews -- not to mention millions of other people around the globe -- had the same happy outlook on that day, and for all the days after, you are not much of a student of history. 

Or of anything else, for that matter.

Christians like to give it this: "You know what I think? I think it just means we're that much closer to the Lord coming back."

Well duh. Every day the Lord does not return is one day closer to the Lord's return.

And yet if by saying that, you are saying that you have some inside information about the timing of the Second Coming of Christ, I may (as TG says) be in danger of getting my bulls and my amens mixed up.

Every Christian since Christ's ascension has believed they live in the end times. But according to the Bible, no man knows the day or the hour of the Lord's return. In fact He tells us it will occur at an hour when we think not.

Cemeteries the world over swell with the remains of Christians who believed they'd cheat death by being caught up with the Lord when He comes in the clouds for His bride.

Surely some Christians will have that incredible experience, and I hope I'm one of them. But a thousand years is as a single day to God. If the Lord tarries fifty more years, I'll have been the guest of honor at a funeral and I'll be collected out of a grave.

My children and grandchildren -- and yours -- will most likely have to live those years.

So it matters very much to me that they have a free country to live in, and this country won't be free for much longer if we don't do something to reverse its current trajectory.

Among the several positive comments offered on the blog post in question was one by Laura, who made some excellent points and typed them in all caps to convey her level of frustration.

I'm right there with her. I'm tired of people who claim to be Christians acting like it doesn't matter where you stand on crucial moral issues. 

I'm tired of hearing Christians defend preachers (and their children) who use vulgar language and victimize church members and even commit adultery.

I'm tired of hearing how "evolved" you think you've become that you can see clearly what's so far escaped the rest of us: i.e. that there's nothing wrong with a Christian drinking alcohol and cussing and getting tattooed and listening to rock music and having sex outside of marriage and voting Democrat and having nothing in their closet but a stack of blue jeans and old Rolling Stones teeshirts.

I do not know who Laura is. If she's the same Laura who wrote me a very encouraging email last May, however, I know she reads this blog faithfully and claims to be helped by it.

If it's a different Laura, I stand corrected but that's all the information I've got.

It's interesting to me however, in light of the content of Laura's recent comment, that several months back I began receiving hate mail (the paper kind) from someone claiming to be a Christian.

In particular -- although they do not limit themselves -- this individual objects to my open and public stand (through the vehicle of this, my personal blog) on the homosexual issue.

Of course the hate mail in question is always anonymous! Which is synonymous with cowardly. Gutless. Craven.

Whatever I believe and feel the need to put in writing, I will always stand behind with my name and, if possible, my picture.

And just as I won't hide, I won't be muzzled.

But someone who thinks they're a fine example (as opposed to me) of a Christian fires up their computer and printer and chooses an old-person looking font and writes what they no doubt think is a doozy of a poison-pen letter.

Then they type my name and address real big, locate their scissors and tape, cut out a crooked rectangle, and mash it onto the front of a rumpled envelope.

Then they add a stamp and mail it, proud and satisfied in the self-righteous assumption that they've told me in no uncertain terms the way a Christian ought to think and behave.

But see, what they don't understand is that their hate missives only goad me to further express my conservative beliefs. Not to tone my message down, but to ratchet it up.

It reminds me of when I visit Erica and my Chihuahua, Javier, goes outside to check his messages.

Invariably he starts flapping and yapping around the ankles of Cooper (a/k/a T-Rex), the neighbor's Doberman.

Cooper stands unperturbed, ears slightly back, gazing around unflinching, unyielding, and you can tell he's thinking: Why in the name of sanity is that mosquito-sized canine unit jumping and growling and yipping down there on the ground near my paws?

I cop to being a rock-ribbed conservative in every way you can imagine: fiscally, socially, morally, economically, ecclesiastically, grammatically ... you get the picture. I won't cave. Try your worst.

You don't notice the liberals backing down, do you?

If I am required to be a martyr for either my faith or my country (many much finer people than me have been asked to), I pray God for the grace to go to my death with courage. No sniveling.

Because if my life were taken from me tomorrow by a God-hating despot, I would still be among the most fortunate people to have ever had the opportunity to draw breath.

I am an American and I am a Capitalist and I am a Christian. If you can't guess by my pictures of my husband, my children, and my grandchildren, I am all about the traditional family. 

Abortion is wrong. The homosexuals are wrong. I vehemently dislike big government, labor unions, and the welfare mentality. I have no use whatsoever for either the public schools or the state universities. I believe fervently in our Second Amendment rights and indeed, all our God-given and Constitutionally-protected rights.

If you don't like any or all of the above, I suggest you find a way to lump it.

I've often said that I would rather be dead than a liberal, because liberalism tends to death. Only it's the slow, agonizing kind. Liberals get no clean breaks. They get no breaks at all. The way of the transgressor is hard.

Conservatism in all its iterations tends to life, as does morality and personal accountability.

And yes, Laura, I agree with you that Christians who refuse to step up to the plate in this day and age, are not helping our cause. They -- all the way from the preacher who won't speak the truth because he fears the gravy train may screech to a halt, down to the spineless liberal lurking in the back (or front) pew -- will pay a high price for their poltroonery.

I stand with you, Laura. Until providentially hindered, I'll be here and I promise I will neither alter my beliefs nor take counsel of my fears. Like anonymous mail, it's just not my style.

In conclusion I share two links that I wish you'd read, even though I know if you've gotten this far, fortunes have been made and squandered in the time it took you to slog through this post and it's possible you have other fish to fry.

The first is an article written by the great Erik Rush entitled Yes ... I'm a Hater.

The second is an article written by the erudite Arnold Ahlert entitled Changing Demographics? More Like Enduring Ignorance.

When you have time and are able, please read them and pass the links along.

Also let me say thank you to my daughter Erica, who called and told me to listen on YouTube to the Gaither Vocal Band singing I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.

Christmas is six weeks from today y'all! It's not too early to appreciate the heart-rending message of this wonderful song. I cried and cried when I heard it. God is so good.

Thanks to my wonderful family for posing so patiently.

If you would like for me to take pictures of your beautiful family, shoot me an email or give me a call. I am sure I'd be honored.

=0=0=0=

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

=0=0=0=

=0=0=0=

Happy Tuesday! Happy Week!

None dare call it outrage

When I showed up at my neighborhood polling place to vote for Mitt Romney America on Tuesday, I walked in on a kerfuffle of sorts.

A female of about sixty with her hair seemingly styled by a barber, clad in a red track suit and thick-rimmed Harry Potter glasses (not her barber; she herself), was demanding loudly that the police be called.

"Call the police! Call the police! Call the police!" she said.

The election official reached for his cellphone and appeared to comply (although I was at the location for the next fifteen minutes and saw no lights or sirens, so I think he may have actually dialed Papa John's).

Clutching my valid South Carolina Driver's License and my valid Voter Registration Card tightly to my chest, I looked around for a holdup man. Or Barack Obama.

Seeing neither, I queued up and nudged the man in front of me.

"What's the deal?" I said sotto voce.

He grinned conspiratorially. "Something about her ID."

Turns out the lady came to the polls armed with nothing (not even a purse that I could see) but a lousy attitude and some sort of Federal ID card.

Only, I guess it's the law in South Carolina that you cannot vote without a state-issued picture ID.

I'm not really sure because I always have my driver's license with me. You know ... in my wallet? In my purse? Like, in case I do see lights and sirens?

I'll thank you not to snicker! The last time I got a ticket was in 1997, knock on asphalt.

(It was awarded to me by the great State of Ohio, and they're clearly a bunch of nuts. But I digress.)

So then another election official patiently pointed out (for not the first time, I figured) that they were only following state law in demanding to see proper ID so that the irate lady could vote and get on with her day.

The female in red became even more agitated.

"Nikki Haley is an idiot! Nikki Haley is an IDIOT! NIKKI HALEY IS AN IDIOT!" she ranted.

It was about then that it dawned on me which side this lady bats for. And it ain't the side of truth and right.

Then she took another tack, valiant if a trifle non sequitur.

"My son is in the Marines!" she brayed.

I looked around but saw no Marines advancing on the elementary school cafeteria. No pizza delivery boy either.

And unbidden, the words came out of my mouth. I know it's hard for you to imagine that, but do try.

"So what. My son's in the Air Force. Your point?" I said. Politely.

She looked at me but did not engage.

The man in front of me chimed in, holding out what I assumed was his valid South Carolina Driver's License and his valid Voter Registration Card.

"I went online and it told us exactly what to bring," he offered.

She glared at him. If looks could kill, he'd have assumed room temperature before you could say electoral college.

"Oh but I didn't bring mine. Do you want me to go and get it?" she responded, all nasty-nice.

All the while exuding what she doubtless meant to be interpreted as the clever highly-evolved condescending sarcasm unique to liberals.

Then:

"The law is an outrage! Nikki Haley made this law and it's an outrage! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!"

All relaxed now, having realized there was no robber but there was still the slight possibility of pizza, I piped up again.

"Then why don't you run for office, get elected, and change it?" I suggested.

She glared at me and again refused to engage. TG says I'm scary.

Disappointed, I stepped up and got approved to vote. I voted. All excited, thinking it was a done deal and America was God-blessed and back on track, I got my sticker.

I never saw the outraged female again and never smelled pepperoni either.

Outside, a few other citizens and I decided that the would-be liberal voter's performance, while not Oscar-worthy, had likely been staged.

Staged for outrage. But like many such plans, it flopped. No one was remotely impressed.

And as I drove away I thought, that's the problem; hardly anybody gets truly outraged anymore.

We now know that GOP voter turnout on Tuesday was lackluster. Mitt Romney garnered two million fewer votes than John McCain got four years ago.

I do not understand.

Where's the outrage for tens of millions of slaughtered babies ripped limb from limb and tossed into trash bags, lost to a barbaric and reprehensible procedure championed by the side that "won" on Tuesday night?

Where's the outrage for the fact that we are about to be hit with a tax that will eventually cripple us all, in the name of healthcare that will eventually kill us all?

Where's the outrage for the fact that it's been years since some people turned off the TV and opened a book, and most Americans are semi-literate at best?

But they text thousands of non-words per day, many while driving down the road, many more including naked pictures of themselves.

Where's the outrage over an American president who aligns himself with a violent heathen middle-eastern America-hating religion while thinly disguising (if at all)  the fact that he loathes Israel and would like to help its enemies abolish it, along with Christianity?

And he'd throw the Constitution on that God-forsaking blaze too if he got his way.

Where's the outrage for the fact that fuel and electricity prices will now skyrocket as the green agenda is pandered to by soulless politicians (on both sides of the aisle) from whom all restraints have been removed?

Where's the outrage for the fact that Capitalism is now considered the enemy and de facto Socialism is touted as the cure for all our country's ills?

Where's the outrage for the fact that there are finally more people on welfare than there are people to pay the taxes that support it? 

Because we've become complacent about the bounty and relative ease for which we've worked all our adult lives, more than half the country is now complacent about appropriating the bounty and relative ease for which we've labored -- but from which we are now barely permitted to benefit.

Because good and well-intentioned people of my generation did not hold the line in the home, they're now saddled with profligate sons and daughters who vote welfare instead of well-being, if they bother themselves to vote at all.

These good people of my generation aren't even embarrassed -- forget outraged -- anymore when those daughters present them with fatherless grandchildren, then take the government as their husband and go on the dole.

All while whining that there's a "war" on their lady parts.

I am here to tell you that there has yet to be a war on a fetid swamp.

And if you don't like that, please do locate an outraged digit to click yourself out. Don't let the virtual door hit you in the backside.

If they actually work, most of these daughters of good folks of my generation drop the kiddies off at (often government-subsidized) daycare after making a swing through McDonald's to buy breakfast with an EBT card.

At night the good people of my generation often babysit fatherless grandchildren while their daughters go out drinking and God only knows what else, because due to a shocking dearth of modesty, discretion, and morals, they "didn't get to enjoy" their teen years.

And that's a fairly pretty picture compared to what actually goes on in the ghettos of once-beautiful American cities where nobody works. Ever.

Where's the outrage for that? From either side?

Yet the petulant complaints of the parasites that not enough is being done for them and that hard-working people are not giving enough to them are heard throughout our once-decent land.

Let me ask you something.

Why complain when you don't have to get up and go to work every day and yet you enjoy government-issue housing (miraculously equipped with flat-screen TV and cable), government-issue food, a government-issue cellphone, and government-issue health care?

Not to mention government-issue birth control which, when you're too lazy or indifferent or promiscuous to use it, will no doubt soon be augmented -- if not all-out supplanted -- by government-issue abortions?

And since we're having this cozy chat let me point out something else.

Like everyone who has ever lived since God created Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, I had nothing whatsoever to do with my parentage, the geographic coordinates of my birth, or the pigment of my skin.

I have never knowingly discriminated against a black person. I am willing to be friends (or at least friendly) with anyone who is a decent human being, who keeps their nose clean and obeys our laws and works hard for what they've got instead of expecting a handout.

I have never owned a slave or asked a black person to move to the back of a bus, a train, a plane, a car, a boat, or any other conveyance of any type. I have never demanded that they use a different water fountain or restroom, or eat in a different restaurant than me.

And I have never wished I could.

Don't dare label me a racist just because I didn't vote for the black guy. Either time.

But the concept of white guilt is as foreign to me as becoming an astronaut or moving to Uruguay or receiving an engraved invitation to hang out on Johnny Depp's island.

I don't feel it and I will never feel it and I refuse to apologize for things over which I have never had any control.

I'll tell you what I have done. 

I have remained married to the love of my life for thirty-three plus years. He is the only man I've ever known and the only one I've ever had any desire to know.

And yes, I do mean in the Biblical sense.

While I do not believe that makes me better than anyone else, I do believe it makes me more fortunate.

And obviously I was smart enough and/or blessed enough to make a few excellent choices.

I am the mother of four adults who I believe to be extraordinary in their wonderful American ordinariness. They work; they worship; they clean house and care for kids and shop and read books and pay their bills and serve their country and take care of their pets and try to eat right, and they love and respect their parents.

They all played sports and they all finished college. They are patriotic and productive.

They are hard-working and law-abiding and God-fearing and if you met any one of them and needed their help, they would give it to you.

And they've never applied for or accepted welfare, and I seriously doubt any of them ever would.

In short, what I have done for my country is I have passed my values and morals and beliefs -- and yes, the conservatism that is at my core along with my faith -- along to my children.

One of those children is herself a mother (married to the father of her children), and she is likewise passing all of the above (and then some, quite possibly) on to my beloved grandchildren.

And I know my other children will do the same, when they get the opportunity to do so.

I feel outrage today for the direction in which my precious America is headed. How could I not?

But I am happy today because I live in what is still the greatest country ever to exist on the face of the earth.

Beautiful and exceptional in every way. Maybe not as free as she once was, and more is the pity.

I am grieved and yes, I am a little bit frightened of what's ahead for us.

But I know that in the end, the bad guys do not win.

Even if they think they have.

There is a final chapter.

The Creator of the universe and of mankind and every other living thing has already written it.

Because it's all been said in an endless loop and it hasn't seemed to change much, I leave you (finally) with two verses from the book of Job and one from First Timothy.

~+~

For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.

~+~

For the which cause I also suffer these things: nevertheless I am not ashamed: for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.

~+~

He knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me I shall come forth as gold.

~+~

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Happy Thursday!

God Bless America.

That is all.

God Bless America

Man is not free unless government is limited.

~Ronald Reagan~