Alert! Alert!

I urge my fellow Americans to write your US representatives, your state representatives and your local representatives and request immediate action to start withdrawal the 501 C for the NFL, which allows them to be recognized as a charitible organization.

Request that they immediately start proceedings to stop all Federal, State and local funding to the NFL, the football teams and their owners. Request that they cease any and all tax breaks or tax exceptions.
All I can see are those men and women soldiers overseas, just waiting to see some football from home only to be greeted by kneeling players protesting; dishonoring the American Flag.

Now, let us take the power we posses and use it against the NFL and all those that take a knee and disrepect our flag and our anthem. That disrespect every man and woman serving this great Nation and all those that came before and paid the ultimate price.

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We the People…

Dear NFL:

We will not support millionaire ingrates, who hate America and disrespect our Armed Forces and our Veterans.

Who wins a football game has zero impact on our lives.

Who fights for and defends our nation, has every impact on our lives.

We stand with the real Hero’s, not a bunch of rich, entitled, arrogant, ungrateful, anti-America degenerates.

Signed,

We the People of the United States of America

I do not know who wrote the above letter of explanations to the NFL, but I do know it deserves to be repeated and repeated and repeated.  

It touches the soul of the common American, who loves their country and enjoys American sports.

Of late, the athletes who choose to voice their dislike for the way their ancestors were treated, for it is evident they certainly are not treated unfairly, by disrespecting our National Anthem and the United States of America’s flag, I have this to say to you,

Unless you, or someone you love, has been handed this flag folded, taken directly from the top of a fallen soldier’s casket, do not, even go to sleep and dream, that you have the right to disrespect our flag.

Your freedom of speech ends where my freedom of speech begins and you, do not represent me or my fellow Compatriots.

You are a paid employee, just like the rest of us. If we do something to disrespect our boss or our place of employment, you better believe, we will be fired.  What makes you any better than the common working man?  Nothing, absolutely nothing!

The only difference is when we take home our paychecks we often wonder if there’s going to be enough to go around.  Whereas with you, you are grossly overpaid for a talent the Good Lord gave to you.  You by your actions, don’t appreciate that talent either, but rather think you deserve it.

I am now putting the players that chose to take a knee during the playing of the National Anthem, instead of standing with your hand over your heart in celebration of this great country in which we are all privileged to live, right along with the actors and actresses who so blatantly disrespect not only themselves, but our nation.  They forget they are just paid employees of us, the common American citizen who lay out our money to watch, ‘let’s pretend,’ for a period of about two hours.  Yours, and their mouthing is disgusting.

I stand with the President in withdrawing the invitation to the White House for those athletes who actually think they are better than the average American. That’s our White House, that’s our government, not yours alone. So, if you can’t honor our house by treating it respectfully, you’re not welcome there.  

In fact, why don’t you go play ball in another country.  We will make it just fine without you here.  There are enough good, red blooded Americans, who are willing and able to take your place any time and any place.

As a footnote, the players that choose to kneel during the national anthem, should keep in mind that the very stadiums you disrespect the American Flag in, are largely funded and subsidized by the average American taxpayer.

From 1997 – 2015, twenty NFL stadiums were opened. Those twenty NFL stadiums, cost the American taxpayer, approximately $4.7 BILLION dollars.

Additionally, NFL teams, enjoy: tax breaks, reduced utilities, reduced costs of police services, municipal bonds to build their stadiums and often times, direct cash payments from local municipalities and states.

AT&T Stadium, where the Dallas Cowboys play, appraises for roughly $1,000,000,000. In case all those zeroes made your eyes cross a little, that’s One. Billion. Dollars. And yet, because of incentives offered, Jerry Jones doesn’t pay a dime in property taxes on it.

Did you know that the NFL is a 501c? That’s the same classification offered to charitable organizations and churches. Were you aware that, despite profits in the billions, the NFL didn’t pay a single cent in Federal Income Tax, until the 2015 fiscal year?

Just a few interesting facts to keep in mind the next time you see an NFL player kneel in a stadium that your tax dollars helped pay for and help to maintain, year after year after year after year. If the NFL, it’s commissioner and it’s players want to continue to make political statements, they should do it on their own dime.

And in a personal post script, Jerry Jones, you had a golden opportunity to be a hero to the every day, hard working average American. Instead, you chose to side with the ingrates and the elite and once more, let us down. As a life long fan of the Dallas Cowboys, it’s truly disappointing to say goodbye to what I always felt like was my team…to say goodbye to what was once known as America’s team.

News articles sourced in the writing of this blog:

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2013/10/how-the-nfl-fleeces-taxpayers/309448/

http://money.cnn.com/2015/01/30/news/companies/nfl-taxpayers/index.html

http://www.npr.org/2014/01/18/263767372/the-nfl-big-business-with-big-tax-breaks

Sneak Peek of The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Part III

 

Bessie Attends a Wake:


The pastor finished his prayers and the procession of mourners, went down the line, shaking hands with Viola’s family members. When they all were through, the crowd started to leave so the undertaker could finish his job.

Bessie kept standing, staring at the foot of Viola’s casket.  Finally the undertaker said, “Ms. Buemiller, I understand the love you had for your good friend Viola Godspeed, but I’ve got to finish my job now.  Can I call someone to come and help you to your car?”

 

“No, you cannot.  But, what you can do is explain how you managed to bury Viola in a casket made in China.” Bessie said as she moved the flowers over so the tag on the end of the casket could be read.

 

“She had a prepaid funeral plan, Ms. Buemiller.”

 

“I know that, but no way would she have selected, ‘made in China,’ to be on her casket. A final farewell to a red blooded American?  No way Jose! Viola didn’t know that, and I’m telling everyone I know to check out where their prepaid funeral casket is made.  And I’m telling you right now, you do that to me, I promise I will come back and personally, kick your ‘made in China,’ undertaking ass.”

____________________________________________

Max

“Are you sure, Deputy?”  The dog groomer was talking to Bessie.

“Yes, I’m sure.  I’m paying for this out of my pocket, so don’t worry about what the county is going to say.”  Bessie said.

“I know Deputy, but this is a male dog.  You want him groomed with puffs around his legs and a top knot that’s fluffy and then you want him to have ribbons in his hair? Have I got that right?”

“Blue ribbons. He’s a male, so yes, blue ribbons and bathe him in that good smelling shampoo.”

“Very well, deputy.  He should be ready by about four this afternoon.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you then.  Should you get through earlier, give me a call.  Here’s my card.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I surely will.”  The groomer answered.

Bessie went on about her patrol hoping she wouldn’t need her partner until after he was groomed.  She had said nothing to the Sheriff or anyone about having Max groomed.  Since they weren’t paying for it, Bessie didn’t really think she needed to ask.  

Fortunately, the afternoon was relatively quiet and when Bessie’s cell phone rang, it was the Dog Groomer.

“Max is ready, Deputy Buemiller.”

“Thanks,” Bessie said as she turned the patrol car around and headed for the dog groomer’s.

When they brought Max out you could tell he was so proud of the way he looked.  He pranced up to Bessie as if to say, ‘look at me.’

Bessie bragged and bragged on Max and told him how pretty he looked.  He wagged his well groomed tail,  now with a pom pom at the end and all but smiled at Bessie.  She swore sometimes she just knew that he smiled at her. She was falling in love with this dog, something she thought she’d never do.

The next afternoon, Bessie and Max were patrolling the south side of Hawkshaw County when a call came in that a bank robbery had occurred and they had the suspect cornered and they were engaged in a gun battle.  They requested that Bessie get there with the dog.   

Bessie whipped the patrol car around, flipped on the lights and sirens and headed for the location.  When she pulled up she could see that the robber was inside the car and would fire his pistol every now and again randomly at the officers. She assessed the situation and walked up to the Sheriff.

“Do you want me to have Max get him?”  She asked.

“Do you think he can take him down?”

“Without a doubt.”  Bessie replied.

“Then do it.”  The Sheriff said.

Bessie walked back to the car and told Max, “I need you to take this man down, Max.  Take him down.”

She opened the back door and a black streak was all that could be seen as the dog covered the ground between the patrol car and the suspect with a speed of lightning.  He cleared the car door, went through the window and had the robber screaming for help within seconds.

When Bessie and the others walked up to the car, she had to tell Max to ‘hold,’ as his teeth were just above the suspect’s throat.  Max was growling a low gurgling growl that meant, ‘ I’m going to tear your throat out.’

The robber was visibly shaking and begging them to call the dog off.

Bessie walked up to the car and said, ‘easy, Max.’   The dog backed off until another officer got the cuffs on the man and then Max started wagging his tail.  

“Good dog, Max.  Good dog,” Bessie said.

After the suspect was in a patrol car and on his way to jail the other officers in the group started laughing out loud.  Bessie turned to see what they were laughing at.  The only thing she saw was Max standing beside her.  With her hands on her hips, Bessie huffed out a, “What?”

The Sheriff had joined the others in laughing, he said, “Bessie, when did you have that dog groomed?”

“Yesterday.  Why?”

“Because he looks like a sissy with those blue ribbons in his hair and his pom pom tail.  He looks like everything but a vicious dog.”

“Well, Sheriff, you know what they say about looks.  It’s what’s on the inside that counts.  And imagine what that robber is gonna have to tell his friends, ‘Yeah a big black dog with blue ribbons in his hair and smelling like French perfume, jumped through the car window and had me by the throat before I knew what was happening.’ Don’t you just know he’s aching to tell that tale.”  Bessie laughed.

They all rolled with laughter and Max just stood there, smiling.

 

 

A Sneak Peak of The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Part II

They’d been driving about an hour when the prisoner said, “The cemeteries here in Louisiana are all above ground. I hear it’s because the water table is so close to the surface they can’t bury them underground.”

 

Bessie just said, “Uhuhhhhh.”

 

The prisoner continued to talk, “I also hear there’s a Voodoo witch that roams the countryside. They call her the Ghost of Marie Laveau. We’ll pass right by her crypt.”

 

“Yeah?”  Bessie answered. “This one up here on the right?”

 

“Yes, that’s it. You can see her crypt from the street.” Alfred Hennessey said.

 

Bessie slowed down as they went by and she said to Alfred “Wave goodbye Alfred, there ain’t no Voodoo Queens in Texas.  They’re all here in the swamps of Louisiana.”

 

“We cross over a swamp too on our way out.”  Alfred said. He was thinking if he could maybe put a little spook into this female deputy he might make an escape. Little did he know he was dealing with Bessie Buemiller and even Marie Laveau would hesitate to tangle with her.

 

The headlights cut through the road ahead, and revealed the overhanging trees covered in moss. The road did look swampy and scary, Bessie thought.  About that time, Bessie heard a loud pop and she had to struggle to hold the wheel tight.  She had a blowout.  She guided the car to the shoulder and got out to take a look.

 

Sure enough, the back right rear tire had blown.  Bessie raised the trunk lid and started getting the jack and the spare tire out.  From the back seat she heard, “I’ll help you if you want me to. I don’t mind changing a flat tire.”

 

Bessie walked around to the back door, unlocked it and said, “Max guard.”

 

The dog jumped to the ground and watched as Alfred exited the car and went to the back to put the jack under the car. Bessie backed up just enough to be out of Alfred’s reach, should he decide he was going to try and take her down. She unsnapped the strap over the gun hammer and put her hand down to her side.

 

Alfred worked raising the car on the jack and whistled while he worked. Finally, the job was done and as he got the last nut on the wheel and snapped the hub cap back in place, he said, “Ma’am I really need to go to the bathroom.”

 

“Well, go, Alfred. There, on the side of the road. There’s not another car in sight.”

 

Alfred walked to the side of the road, did his business and then in a wink took off running into the swamp. Bessie let him get through the fence and then she said, “Take him down Max.”

A Sneak Peak of The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller

With tongue in cheek, we dedicate this book to all lawmen with much appreciation for the work you do. We hope you get a good laugh from Deputy, Bessie Buemiller.



Prologue

 

Before you begin reading The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller, you must meet Bessie.

 

Bessie is a deputy Sheriff for Hawkshaw County, Texas.  She’s never been married and has had only a handful of male suitors in her life. However, that doesn’t stop Bessie from liking men. As she says, “Hate men? Lordy no! I don’t hate men. They just somehow are intimidated by me.  I don’t know why.  Just because I could whip every deputy in this county if I wanted to, doesn’t mean I’m not sweet and loveable.”

 

Bessie was right about one thing, there wasn’t a man in the county who knew Bessie that didn’t know she was one tough broad, or at least that was the rumor.

 

Bessie likes to gussie up in her bedazzled hat and dresses when she goes out for the night. She always has her Glock with her, but usually it’s strapped to her leg or holstered away safely in her new leotards.

 

When told by the sheriff, that while on duty, she had to be in an official Hawkshaw County Sheriff Department’s uniform, Bessie was very, very disappointed.  As she told the sheriff, “Every old barn looks better with a little paint on it.” So, she bedazzled her uniform any time she got the chance, often telling the sheriff that some glitter spilled out and she accidently sat down in it.  If the sheriff didn’t believe Bessie, he was gentleman enough not to tell her.

 

This is just a snippet about Bessie’s life. She’s a very good woman, which she often laments over, questioning if that is really such a ‘good’ thing.  She feels she misses a lot of good times by having such a glowing reputation.  But, all in all, Bessie lives a very exciting life; a life she’d love to share with a man. Alas, she is reconciled to the fact that, that will never happen. So, she goes about living her life as only Bessie Buemiller can.

 

Thanks for dropping in and we hope you enjoy your journey as you ride along with Deputy Sheriff, Bessie Buemiller, as she and those around her, endure her many ‘Trials and Tribulations’.

 

The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller will be available as an E-Book on Kindle foAmazon, Friday, September 22nd.

If would like to read my writings, including the Geovanni Legends series and the Ivan Bennett of Scotland Yard series, please visit http://jrmartinauthor.com/

Unfiltered

When we decide to destroy yesterday, today is in danger of never becoming tomorrow.  


That is a very true and profound statement. When you insist that our statues erected to honor someone,  be done away with because it offends you, you might want to rethink your position. After all some of these people whose statues you want torn down you may share heaven with.

What are you going to do?  Tell God you’re offended?

Those that say The Bible says, ‘do not erect idols,’ do not know their history or their Bible. These statues are not erected as idols to be worshiped. I know of no one in the north or the south that have worshiped Robert E. Lee or Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King, or the Buffalo soldiers.  Not now. Not ever.

First of all, these are not idols, but statues in honor of people who have helped America in some way.  Some will say the Confederates were bad because they had slaves, and others will say that the Yankees were bad because they had slaves.  The slaves the Yanks had were Irish, they really were the first known slaves in America and the Confederates didn’t start the war because they wanted slavery but because they didn’t want to be told what kind of government they should have.  Again, check your history.

It makes me sad when calloused souls, just because they don’t like something, want it done away with.  ‘To Hell with any and all that offends me.’

Well, I say to them, I’m offended when you want our history done away with.  I’m offended when you want Christianity dismissed, I’m offended when you want your way and have no reasoning to consider what other people might want.

I’m offended when our young people in college, who by then should know better, want safe rooms and puppies and blankets to sooth their soft gentle nature.  And I’m really offended when their professors agree with them.

I’m offended when women take to the streets and say they represent me, because they do not.  I’m offended when judges go against the sitting President of the United States.   And I am really offended when Congress blames the President when they are the ones that should be acting concerning the DACA. Congressmen and women who blame others for their mistakes should be kicked out of office.

I’m offended when lobbyist churn and churn and pay and pay our elected officials  in order to get a bill passed, or a product passed or a law passed that benefits, insurance companies, or pharmaceutical companies or other things that affect my life and the lives of those I love.

I’m offended when police officers’ lives are put at risk because some idiots don’t like the law of the land.  I’m offended when riots and rioters take over our highways and protest and blame others if they don’t get what they want. I’m offended when welfare recipients think they deserve more than the rest of us who have worked for years and paid into our government.

I’m offended when you blame the present for the past.  History is full of mistakes.  That’s why they say learn from history so as not to repeat it.  But you want it destroyed because you are so fragile it offends you.  Get over it.  It happened.

And I’m really offended when others, who have been blessed financially, pay these people to protest and these people think so little of their fellow citizens they laugh and do it.

I’m offended when people say Social Security is form of welfare when it is not.  It’s something every American has paid into all their working years in order to have just a little boost when they retire.

I am offended when people talk smack about our President.  I don’t care if you voted for him or not, he was elected.  It’s our job to support him and pray for him, those that are so quick to quote the bible need to remember that.  I believe Jesus said, “render unto Ceaser, that which is Ceaser’s.”

I’m also offended when I hear that we have children and old people right here in the United States who have no food, no medicine  not even a clean bed to sleep in.  Oh, and I’m really offended when I hear that some of our veterans are homeless and hungry.  You do remember the veterans right?  You know the guys and gals who at seventeen and eighteen years old laid their life down for you and me. Now and down through history, you remember history, you that say you don’t need any more history lessons.  But,  if you don’t know these truths then I think you do.

These same young people stormed the beaches of Normandy and by the way, Russia was our ally in that war.  In fact Russia lost more men in World War II than the United States or Britain or France, just in case you’ve forgotten that history lesson.

I’m offended because Native Americans have been forgotten and many of their reservations need water wells.  We don’t have to go to Africa to find folks in need of clean water; we have that right here at home.

I’m offended when foreigners come into my country and tell me what God I’m to worship. Foreigners, who have so little courage that they couldn’t defend their own homeland, but think they need to tell me what to believe and what to think and who to pray too.  I’m a Christian and I’m tired of turning the other cheek. Before you say it, let me answer you.  What would Jesus do?  Well I don’t know,  but tearing up a temple and running the money changers out with a whip  and cursing a fig tree is within the realm of possibilities.

I’m really offended when the sitting politicians and the news media, think the American people are so dumb they believe everything they are told. You know the old saying, ‘ if their lips are moving they are lying.’ Believe me, we’ve seen and heard enough to know that’s true.

I’ll sit down and shut up now, but I won’t forget. 

And I pray, that many more Americans will remember and take a stand for what they know is right and just and not be persuaded to cater to the minority just because they scream louder or have so little respect for themselves or their fellow man, that they accept money to act and behave as they do.

I love America and I’m not ashamed to say so. I pray it remains, ‘One Nation under God.’

Identity Changed to Protect the Innocent

Recently, we experienced a rare and beautiful eclipse of the sun.  We were warned, repeatedly, about looking directly at the eclipse. Some, actually many, bought glasses made for this rare occurrence.  I’d like to inject at this point, I only wish I’d had some glasses to sale.  I wouldn’t have to work for the next year.  But, that’s beside the point and I will leave to your own cursory.

With each and every advisory that came across the television screen my family, neighbors, in-laws, outlaws and those around my fair city, took heed to the warning.  Especially, my dear, dear friend who shall, for all intent and purposes, remain forever nameless.

Yesterday, she came to me with a tenebrous sprit.  One look at her and I knew she had something on her mind that was about to be dropped on me.  I backed  up and to my dismay,  I discovered there was absolutely no way to escape whatever it was she had to say, so I sat down and invited her to do the same.

Her foreboding and gloomy spirit continued through the pouring of a dark and aromatic cup of coffee and finally she set her burden free.

“I think I looked at the eclipse too long and have damaged my eyes.”  She said with a contrite expression on her face.

“Oh, and what symptoms are you having that make you think that?”  I inquired.

“I haven’t seen well since that day.  Everything is blurry, unclear, out of focus.”  She replied.

“Have you experienced any black spots that seem to float across your eyes or anything like that?”  I inquired.

“No.”  She replied.

“OK, well do you have problems seeing up close or far away?”  I continued to inquire in a doctor like manner. “

“Mostly, up close.  I can see pretty well, far off. Yeah, definitely up close is where the problem is.”  She answered.

“Have you been to an eye doctor yet?” I asked.

“No, I’m just so nervous and afraid to go.”  She replied.

Knowing that my dear, dear friend had a slight degree of hypochondria, I handed her my reading glasses and said, “Here you go, put these on and see if they help.”

She took them from my hand and plopped them on her face while declaring, “I’ve never had to wear eye glasses before.  Not ever.  Oh my God, do you think I’ve damaged my eyes so badly that I will now have to have glasses?”  She shrieked.

“No, I just think you’ve had enough birthdays now that you’ve joined the rest of us.  Age does that to you.  It just slips up and blind sides you and wa-la, one day you’re just getting older.  Welcome to my world.”  I smiled.

Sick of Rated R

I do not know how many of you have fallen victim to the Rated R emails that come through on your junk email.

To my knowledge, I’ve never ordered any Rated R stuff, indulged in any on line Rated R sex games, requested any information from any Rated R website or asked for any dates with Rated R Women. At times, I wonder if it’s because my name is Jimmy and they assume I am a man.

I constantly get offers for free testosterone, which I do not need or want and ads from ‘did you see my naked pictures?’, as well. As I previously stated, I did not order nor do I want any of this Rated R information.

I have even received Halloween costumes for  ‘a pretty little miss,’  that I certainly did not order, nor did I want. I’ll leave what that looked like up to your imagination.

In fact, I had a horrible thought. What if my grandchildren got on my computer and saw all this propaganda?  What if they thought I partook of this forbidden fruit?  Dear Lord, it gives me heart palpitations just to think about it.

Then, I had another terrible, terrible thought.  The worst possible thing, what if I died and my children found all that stuff in my deleted box and thought I had been a part of any such thing?  Oh, Lord, I’d be prayed right into hell and be as innocent as a morning dove.

I’ve done all the normal things you can do such as requesting all email from those addresses be immediately stopped, all to no avail.  Now, I get letters saying, “Jimmy, do you want a date tonight?”  The answer is a resounding ‘NO!’, I do not want a date and if I did, I could manage that all on my own.  I mean, I get in enough trouble by just breathing…I don’t need any help from outside sources.

Now, I must say in all honesty, I am not a Polly Anna but I’m not a Candy Bar either.  For those who don’t know or remember,  Candy Bar, was a stripper in the 60’s in Dallas, Texas. I know immediately you wonder how I know about such things. I was told by a very good source.  That’s it, nothing more.

Now, to continue on my tirade about Rated R topics on the junk email of my computer.  My brother, years ago, gave me the nickname of Stella Dallas.  For those of you too young to remember, Stella Dallas was a radio show character.  She had more encounters with unwanted, worldly things then you can imagine, thus my nick name.

I know it seems as if our world has gone to hell in a hand basket, but  I do think that basically most folks are good at heart.  Based on that, if any of you know how to block, erase, do not send or how to otherwise get across, do not communicate with me about these Rated R, things I would appreciate your help.

I have to admit, I am severely technically challenged when it comes to the computer, so I am therefore subjected to more information than I care to know about.