RED FRIDAY

VIEWPOINT OF A TRUE HERO

Dear Mr. Football Player,

I saw on Twitter you think it’s easy and takes no skills to kill people. Well, let me tell you this. It takes mad skills and madder smarts to be an infantryman. Everyone thinks we’re dumb and borderline illiterate but some of the smartest people I know are in the military and they have amazing people killing skills.

Think about it. Is there any more useful skill in this world than killing people when the shit hits the fan? In case you’re wondering, the answer is no.

But it’s not just about pulling a trigger. Any idiot can do that. Hell, being a NFL player, I’m sure you know how to do that better than me. Then again, when I tried it your way by holding my M9 sideways, I ended up missing my target and killed a local sheikh’s prized goat.

There is so much more to this than you could possibly imagine. I’d try to explain it to you but I’m sure the Asian kid you cheated off of in college isn’t reading this letter to you. So I’ll put it in football terms.

We are a team organization, like you, but instead of having a world-class training staff, ours is a disgruntled medic who gives out Motrin and tells us to quit being a pussy. Our coach is a 22-year-old Lieutenant who’s calling plays based off of a college degree and no experience. Our owner is an American public who left the game at halftime to go fucking shopping. And when was the last time you were tackled in the back by a guy who’s supposedly on your team?

Shit, in our game, there’s no timeout. We don’t get a break to pick a play. There’s no trophy for us at the end of a battle, except for our medals and combat badges and shit, but regardless, we don’t do this for the glory. There’s no platoon of supermodel gold diggers waiting for us when we come off the field. We marry fat chicks so we can make about an extra thousand a month.

I know it must be a difficult life for you, living under the constant pressure of performing once a week on game day using all your skills. We only have to spend a year or so using our non-existent skills in a country where people throw grenades at us instead of plastic cups filled with beer.

Also, is it true you’re a free agent? Hopefully, that high school football coaching job comes through for you. If not, I’ll see you in the unemployment line when I get out of the military in a couple of months. If I’m feeling charitable, I might give you the number to my recruiter.

Sincerely fuck off,

Private Joe Snuffy

John Mittle and Smelly Infidel contributed edits.

TRAIN HARD / FIGHT EASY!

Excellent Article

A TRIBUTE TO ALL LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICER!


By; Bob Lonsberrt

The cops amaze me.

Some days I honestly don’t know how they do it.

Like yesterday, at the Navy Yard.

We know about the bad guy, we know about his military record and his criminal record. And we know what he did.

But we don’t know much about how he came to stop doing what he was doing.

We don’t know much about how they took him down.

But what we do know is impressive.

Which gets back to the cops.

Yesterday morning about 8:20, the first 9-1-1 call came in of trouble in Building 197. Moments later, an alert was broadcast and officers began speeding toward the Navy Yard from across the District of Columbia.

Regular patrol officers.

Some from schools, some from speed-enforcement details, all from the first hour a new shift and a new week. Old, young, male, female, black, white. They just came. Primarily from the Metropolitan Police Department and the Federal Park Police.

Officers whose lives were going from zero to 60 in the blink of an eye. Officers who went from the sleepy good morning of a Monday dawn to the real-world battlefield of an active shooter.

They began to arrive almost immediately.

And quickly formed up into an assault team.

They didn’t wait for the SWAT team. They didn’t stand back and wait for the armored personnel carrier. They formed up and went in.

Specifically, seven minutes after the first call, an ad hoc team of park police and district police with AR-15s ran into the building in their patrol uniforms.

They ran to the sound of the gunfire.

They closed with the enemy, and engaged him, and killed him.

And by every account some 10 minutes after the first word of trouble had breathed across the police radio, regular patrol officers had killed the gunman and ended his assault.

He fought the law, and the law won.

It’s impossible to calculate how many lives that saved. It’s impossible to calculate how much expertise that took.

It’s impossible to grasp the mindset of readiness that must permeate the men and women of law enforcement. Without notice, the police can be thrown into life-and-death situations where every second and every decision counts.

And sometimes, like yesterday, they must operate in an environment that is heartbreaking and troubling. The responding officers at the Navy Yard ran past the dead and dying, their blood pooling where they lay, in order to press their attack against a monster.

And that was just yesterday.

Every day it is different, every call it is different. Sometimes they are comforting heartbroken children, other times they are knocking on the door to inform someone of the death of a relative. Sometimes they are spat upon, other times they are vomited upon. They are hated and loved, cursed and praised, sometimes on the same call.

They see the carnage of the highways, the sorrow of abused and neglected children, the collapse of a battered wife. They talk the despondent off bridges, they catch the drunk drivers, they try to mediate family and neighbor disputes.

And half the time they do it while being cussed by one group or another. Maybe it’s the neighborhood people. Maybe it’s the pastors. Maybe it’s an activist with a cell-phone video.

The politicians trash them, the residents trash them, the police brass trashes them. They’re ready to lay down their lives for strangers, but heaven help them if anybody thinks they were impolite to a citizen. Heaven help them if they disrespected somebody’s culture.

They fight crime all day, every day, and usually it is a pretty low-key affair. Until there’s a glint of sunlight or a stumbling drunk or a dispatch on the radio.

That’s when it’s Superman time.

That’s when the next 10 minutes of your life are going to be some of the most important in your life.

Like yesterday at the Navy Yard.

Across a big city, the routine of the morning worked its way out. Until there was a cry for help, and the sirens began to roar, and a crew of men and women from at least a couple of departments ran toward the danger.

And killed it.

Before he could kill anybody else.

The cops amaze me.

·          

Read more: http://www.wham1180.com/pages/boblonsberry.html?article=11659502#ixzz2fFEBJ4yH

A SOLDIER'S VIEW POINT

I CAME ACROSS THIS ON THE INTERNET, I CAN'T AGREE WITH IT MORE!

“A good friend of mine and fellow Soldier posted this as his status this morning, I believe it is a well stated and current Soldiers need to read and see how you can properly state an opinion.

Some people are asking me what I think about Syria, so here it is.

I’m tired. I’m tired of people watching their children grow up via Facebook and Skype. I’m tired of hearing a man tell his wife ‘I love you’ followed by ‘I miss you’ for an entire year. I’m tired of watching the military divorce rate shoot sky-high. I’m tired of overhearing some teenager tell his mom over the phone, “I’m going over there” and hearing her cry from 20 feet away. I’m tired of Veterans waiting years to get the help they deserve and need. I’m tired of empty seats at Christmas dinner every other year and anniversary presents in the mail flying overseas. I’m tired of new men and women walking around with invisible wounds that don’t heal. Our flag is a beautiful thing- but I’m tired of seeing it draped over a casket. I’m tired of men and women missing pieces of their bodies, minds, and souls.

I want peace in Syria. I want people to stop killing each other in Syria, as well as anywhere else in the world. I want to look back on wars, not anticipate them. I want to make plans for the next year, and the year after that don’t revolve around being in a foreign country. I want proof that the people we’re helping aren’t the people who have been trying to kill us for more than a decade. I want to know that the people we’re attacking are the ones who used the Chemical Weapons. I want to know how Syria’s problem is a threat to America, our Freedom, and our people. I want to know why we’re doing this alone, when the use of Chemical Weapons should get an international response.

I can’t protest in uniform or speak against the leaders of our country. But I can address people.

Stop worrying about Miley Cyrus rubbing her ass on Beetlejuice. The next season of The Walking Dead will be available on DVD and Netflix and I promise, it won’t change from what they’ve shown on television. Unless you play football, and your income depends on that next game, stop obsessing over a sport for a bit. The clubs, bars, honky-tonks, and juke joints will be there all year. Ben Affleck isn’t a real hero, so it doesn’t matter what he does in a Batman costume at this point. You might want to turn your attention to this for just a minute, and maybe say how you feel about it- one way or another.

Because a whole lot of people are going to die real soon, no matter what. It’s just a matter of who they are.”

The author is unknown at this time.

DISGRACE, ONE YEAR LATER!

THERE NEEDS TO BE SOME ACCOUNTABILITY AND JUSTICE FOR THIS DISCUSSING ACT.  I DON'T JUST MEAN FOREIGN.  THIS COULD HAVE BEEN PREVENTED BUT OF COURSE POLITICS JUST GOT IN THE WAY.  WE WORRY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO PEOPLE EVERYWHERE ELSE IN THE WORLD, BUT ABANDON OUR OWN CITIZENS!      

NEVER FORGET OR FORGIVE!

The reason this pic seems to be distorted is because it is in the background of the names of all the victims of that tragic day.  Please say a prayer for all those people and their families, as well as all of the fallen and wounded members of our armed forces that have given their all in answer to that violent tragic day!  GOD BLESS YOU ALL!