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While on its face, this appears to be little more than an attempt at corporate beneficence, the company is willing to match donations to the Satanic Temple, the Trevor Project, Planned Parenthood (and local Planned Parenthood branches), and the Southern Poverty Law Center – radical leftist groups antipathetic to conservatives and the values they hold most dear.
The Satanic Temple is an atheistic leftist organization that has distributed satanic literature to children; publicly performed "unbaptisms"; sought to ensure that women can legally have their unborn children killed by way of their "religious abortion ritual"; and erected statues of Baphomet on government property.
The Southern Poverty Law Center is a leftist grievance organization that tends to characterize conservatives, parental rights groups, constitutionalists, and those critical of big government as extremists and bigots. For instance, last month, the SPLC deemed Moms for Liberty an "anti-government extremist group." Fox, which the SPLC previously called a "megaphone" for far-right extremist groups, has even written up some of the SPLC's various scandals in the past, including the 2012 incident when a gunman attacked the Family Research Council, which he noted he had seen on the SPLC's "hate map."
The Trevor Project is an activist group that purportedly seeks to “end suicide among LGBTQ young people,” but actively promotes gender ideology and woke propaganda. The group claims that “gender is a social construct” and holds fast to the notion that sex-change mutilations and cross-sex hormone therapies can be meaningful remedies for at-risk teens.
Planned Parenthood is not just in the business of exterminating the unborn, having executed nearly 9 million babies in its abattoirs since 1970, but is among the second-largest provider of cross-sex hormone therapy in the nation. The organization has battled Republicans' pro-life legislation around the country and has long supported Democratic candidates.
Excerpt from the thrilling new novel Ron Paul and the Chamber of Commerce, available in bookstores now!
Damn these subprime lenders, thought Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke, barely keeping his balance on the wobbling skateboard. We can’t afford more debt. He snapped a grappling-hook-tipped quarrel into his crossbow as the skateboard slowed. When the country owes trillions and is asking for more, its shadowy creditors start calling in favors.
The crossbow twanged, carrying his climbing rope up the side of the Federal Reserve building. As he began his ascent, he reflected on the years past. I inherited a broken system, he insisted to himself. We’re simply doing what’s required to prevent a catastrophe. It’s not my fault.
He tossed his skateboard over the parapet and hauled himself over. He dropped six feet to the roof, landed heavily on the board, and trundled on into the night.
From her perch in a tree across the street, the observer watched through her blogoscope as Bernanke disappeared over the wall. She spoke quietly into her radio: “Subject is in the haybarn. The chickens are in danger of roosting.”
“Roger that,” came the reply. “Deploying Agent Harpsichord.”
Inside, Bernanke moved along the wall like a shadow, elongating and contracting as the light sources shifted around him. In the midst of a sea of filing cabinets, he froze. He sniffed the air, then dropped to his knees, licked the floor, and paused. Yes, he thought, Greenspan was definitely here.
The observer had waited for what seemed like an eternity, and was growing impatient. She picked up the radio. “Situation imminent. Pass the ducklings through the snorkel. Repeat: Pass the ducklings through the snorkel.”
“We are go for mode Sinatra,” replied the commander. “Reticulate core and set throttle to ‘cryptic’. Prepare to jitterbug.”
Bernanke forced the door on yet another inner office, realizing too late that the light was on inside. The chair in the corner swiveled around, and Bernanke found himself face-to-face with Alan Greenspan. There was silence for a moment.
“You won’t get away with this,” said Greenspan, rising to his feet. “The Fed is subject to general congressional oversight. But you never understood that, did you?”
“Congress sold out the country, not me,” replied Bernanke. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” said Greenspan. He flicked open a switchblade.
The observer peered once more into the eyepiece of her blogoscope. She threw the switch labeled “overlay building schematics.” The external view of the building disappeared, but instead of blueprints, she was presented with a green puzzle piece. “This view requires the Adobe Flash Player plug-in. Do you want to search for this plug-in now?”
****, she thought.
Bernanke, trying not to slip in the patches of blood on the floor, struggled with Greenspan. The older man moved like a snake that moved like a former Fed Chairman who moved like a ninja. At last, Bernanke got a solid grip on Greenspan’s collar and hurled him through the fourth wall, knocking you to the ground.
Improvising a tourniquet from the remains of the snake left over from the earlier simile, Bernanke moved on through the hallways.
The moonlight-bathed roof of the Federal Reserve building fell suddenly into shadow. A pair of night watchman looked up in alarm to see what had occluded the sky.
“Is that …” one whispered to the other, “… is that a blimp?”
Bernanke reached the central vaults, accessed the Gibson mainframe, and began transmitting the requested files to his distant masters. He didn’t hear the gentle thud on the rooftop, the muffled explosive charges, or the sound of the door opening behind him. But at the last minute some sixth sense kicked in. He spun around just in time to see a golf-ball-sized lump of gold rapidly expanding in his vision. It struck him in the forehead, and he collapsed to the ground like a burlap sack full of scrapple.
Congressman Ron Paul retrieved the gold nugget from the floor and returned it to his satchel. “Try that,” he said, donning his sunglasses, “with a fiat currency.” He spun on his heel, cape swirling behind him, and swept from the room.
Biden forcing us out of gas cars
"Today the Biden Department of Transportation’s National Highway Traffic Safety Administration announced that they are beginning the process of “updating” fuel economy standards for passenger cars and trucks.
According to a press release, NHTSA’s proposal includes a “2% per year improvement in fuel efficiency for passenger cars, and a 4% per year improvement for light trucks, beginning in model year 2027 and ramping up through model year 2032, potentially reaching an average fleet fuel economy of 58 miles per gallon by 2032."
In addition, it includes a “10% improvement per year for commercial pickup trucks and work vans (with gross vehicle weight ratings of more than 8,500 pounds and less than 14,001 pounds) beginning in model year 2030 and ramping up through model year 2035.”
These draconian measures in the name of “efficiency” would effectively make electric vehicles mandatory in this country by forcefully limiting Americans’ options. In the name of fighting climate change, the Biden administration is seeking to bend the American people to their will through government coercion. They don’t trust us to make our own choices, and so have decided to make our choices for us."
Excerpt from the thrilling new novel Ron Paul and the Chamber of Commerce, available in bookstores now!
Bernanke reached the central vaults, accessed the Gibson mainframe, and began transmitting the requested files to his distant masters. He didn’t hear the gentle thud on the rooftop, the muffled explosive charges, or the sound of the door opening behind him. But at the last minute some sixth sense kicked in. He spun around just in time to see a golf-ball-sized lump of gold rapidly expanding in his vision. It struck him in the forehead, and he collapsed to the ground like a burlap sack full of scrapple.
Congressman Ron Paul retrieved the gold nugget from the floor and returned it to his satchel. “Try that,” he said, donning his sunglasses, “with a fiat currency.” He spun on his heel, cape swirling behind him, and swept from the room.
That time you realized my signature was the truth...
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Anyway, both the mainstream media and medical "experts" are now trying to convince us not to mix Borax detergent in with our drinking water, claiming it's some kind of "poison."
Anyway, both the mainstream media and medical "experts" are now trying to convince us not to mix Borax detergent in with our drinking water, claiming it's some kind of "poison."
I posted this picture to FB several years ago. When it came up as an anniversary post, FB flagged it and made me remove it. Refusal meant they would lock my account.
Former President Donald Trump was charged Thursday with illegally retaining a classified document detailing an operational U.S. military plan of attack on Iran...
The headlines about the F-150 genuinely surprised me.
Like, I knew that electric parking brakes were a thing, but in my mind, I'd only ever associated them with Audis and BMWs. Overly-complex luxury cars designed with a focus on gadget-heaviness without regard for usability.
And I have generally held Ford in rather high esteem when it comes to the design and build quality of its trucks.
But as surely as politicians fear a well-informed populace, Ford has in fact gone and put electrically operated parking brakes on all of its new trucks. Even the super-dutys.
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