St. Crispins Day wrapped in Trump

En Garde in the bunker…

St. Crispins Day wrapped in Trump … Culled from the comments thread: “My daughter called yesterday to tell us that, while driving from Richmond to Williamsburg, VA, she saw a Trump car caravan heading in the other direction on I-64 that was at least 5 miles long. Today, she called to tell us about a new guy she went out with last evening. She said the first thing he asked was whether she was a Trump supporter. She said yes, and he breathed a sigh of relief and said, so was he”.

And on that note, what’s so funny to watch during this particular election season, is the toxic residue of “astroturfing”. All the social media “influencers” – particularly Google, Facebook, Twitter, and a troll of others – hire bots to pad their numbers. No one will be the wiser as the “system” doesn’t do quality control (that would likely cost them money and lots of court appearances). Thereby, everyone buys into the “model” within which these influencers hold sway.

Yesterday having been St. Crispins Day, brought forth the wonderful Shakespeare soliloquy, which yours truly is more than happy to weave into what today’s posting is all about …

St. Crispins Day wrapped in Trump…

If we are mark’d to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;

Along comes a grassroots group who push the envelope with truth. The influencers are rolled out to stem the tide, only to find out they are shooting blanks (Cher, Bon Jovi, Springsteen, etc.) Now these influencers look like losers and they know it. How will they recover? Maybe they can advise professional sports (!!)… No “up and comer” wants to follow these clowns. Tomorrow’s influencer backs Donald. Yesterday’s influencers become a bad SNL parody of themselves.

They do this to themselves for free…

St. Crispins Day wrapped in Trump… like it or leave it!

We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.

What happens when you close our churches

I would venture to say that yours truly isn’t the only one who has been waiting 30 years for a President not unlike the last great one we had – President Ronald Wilson Reagan. Donald Trump fits the gap beautifully. There develops a deep personal connection with this man, that everyday when we all get up to go about our daily business, he is already out there fighting the good fight, even as all the hate directed his way by the media, demoMarxocrats, never Trumpers etal, continues unabated.

St. Crispins Day wrapped in Trump…

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

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He had a great life before he decided to run for President but he gave all that up to represent me as well as so many others in this fight against our corrupt government. He has to win, he must win, he WILL WIN! Love you Mr. President!

In the words of the late great Andrew Breitbart, it’s WAR, and President Trump is our General Washington

And on that note, time for today’s MAGA Pill with a little reminder of What happens when you close our churches… President Donald John Trump forever working for ALL American citizens to MAGA! KAG!

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