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James Lord's avatar

"The shocking thing about the coverage was how they completely missed the part that Soros-backed organizations largely funded these events, and all those protesters were far-left."

The mask is off, as they say. And given all the piercings, dyes, tattoos, doughiness, and various forms of self-abasement, I'd say most of them look better with the mask on.

What is both heartbreaking and infuriating is that Soros and his ilk have done this, and continue to do this, right out in the open. And still federal inertia is such that men like Gates and Zuckerberg and Bourla still walk the halls of Congress, get invited to this White House, and generally work toward the desecration of western civilization with impunity.

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James Goodrich's avatar

I’ve been thinking about my Uncle Roly. Uncle Roly and my mother’s sister Aunt Esther lived across the street from me when I was growing up. Uncle Roly loved my Aunt Esther like no one I ever met loved their spouse. This is the same Uncle I wrote about a while back that took in Peter his grandson, my 2nd cousin. Uncle Roly also loved Peter unconditionally.

My sister and I were there the day my uncle passed away. His passing is one of the reasons I believe there is more than just this life.

When my sister and I got Roly into the assisted living facility there was a church a few doors down. Residence at the facility were not allowed to leave the property without being picked up, but my uncle who was very agile would “escape” off of the facilities property, go to the church, and receive the Sacrament of Confession. Over a period of years this would get him in trouble again and again leading to phone calls to us. I’m not sure if everyone gets confession including myself, I’ve heard it explained like this. Confessions are for humans, it’s a human practice to help us deal with the shame. Confessions are not for Gods sake. If you want to be forgiven all you have to do is ask.

My uncle ended up having to leave that assisted living facility and ended up in a crumby nursing home. The day he died, it was a dreary day in December, partly snowing and partly raining, either way it was overcast. My sister and I sat at his bedside, he was having trouble breathing and seemed to be out of it with his eyes closed. After hours my sister said to him you can go uncle Roly, don’t worry things here will be ok. Within minutes bright sunlight shone through the window. My uncles eyes opened wide which seemed to be for minutes. When his eyes closed he was gone. At 94 years old, a WW2 Navy veteran that served in the Pacific and always loved his family unconditionally, the people around him and us his niece and nephew, who had lived across the street from us for decades was gone. To this day I know someone came to get him. Uncle Roly was at peace. J.Goodrich

I’m posting my original story below.

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