And now we know why: SIMPLE GREED
Sam doesn’t want to pay his Mother’s medical bills. He wants YOU, the Tax Payer, to pay them.
“‘You’re an actor. Stick to acting.’ No, motherf–ker. I’m a human being that feels a certain way. And some of this shit does affect me, because if we don’t have health care, sh-t, and my relatives get sick, they’re going to call my rich ass. I want them to have health care. I want them to be able to take care of themselves. This is how I feel. And I count to one hundred some days before I hit ‘send,’ because I know how that sh-t is.”
Samuel L. Jackson
Having health care provided by the State is not taking care of oneself.
What Sam wants is for the State (i.e., the Tax Payer) to take care of his relatives instead of his “rich ass.”
That is some sorry ass shit.
I don’t give two shits what he says about Trump but that is the real motivation of most of the Hollywood types. They want their less affluent relatives to be cared for by the State (i.e, the Tax Payer) so that they do not have to spend their own money on their own relatives.
That is some regressive fucking shit, Sam!
What a piece of shit.
I’ll still go see his movies because I go to the movies to be entertained and don’t give a fuck about the political opinions or, in this case, the lack of compassion, stealth hate for relatives and the poor, or complete fucking greed of these millionaire actors. I pay to be entertained. Hollywood educates only the fools and the daft.
Bottom line, the justification for Sam Jackson’s hatred for Trump is that Sam might have to pay his Mother’s doctor bills.
Ain’t that some heartless shit.
Spent last night on the New Kabul Compound. Yep! After 5 years, it’s finally open. Not finished yet, but, it’s open.
I arrived last night about 5 PM and called Jonathan to meet me. Wound up walking around the whole compound to find him. Took all of 3 and a 1/2 minutes.
Passed a sign that says “Sniper, Begin Sprint.” Then another that said “Safe, Walk again.”
The Army has a sense of humor. lol
Apparently, someone thought that there were snipers along Airport road. Fuckin ‘ Newbies! I thought the Army was supposed to be brave and on top of that kind of thing. Those hills were cleared out back in 2004. I guess it feels tougher if you can tell yourself that you’re braving sniper fire daily. lol
Jonathan and I spent the night hanging out and talking over cold sodas, beef jerky and potato chips. All the while dreaming about having a Jack and Coke and wings.
The Army and General Order #1. The downfall of good times in a war zone. Meanwhile, the Italians, Brits and French are drinking heartily over on ISAF HQ and hundreds of ISAF bases around the country.
God Bless America! Home of the Tali-Baptists and Fundamentalists Extremist Protestants who love to send their kids to war at the ripe old age of 18 and 19 but GOD FORBID they have a @#$%^&*@! beer!
Can you say RE-TAR—–DID!!!! (p.s. yes, I know that’s mispelled…lol)
Good times anyway…thousands of miles from home in a safe and cozy little war zone with my little Bro.
Gotta love it.
My Grandmother was one of a kind. She was kind and loving and supportive of me in my early years. She was just an awesome Grandmother. She was taken away from us too early. I sometimes wonder how different life would have been with her around. How much different I would have been. How much different the family would be. I know she loved me. I remember spending many a summer night with her. Carl Junior and Todd would be there at times as well. Those were some of the best days of my early childhood.
Funny, in those days, kids were allowed in bars. And every neighborhood, it seemed, had a corner tavern. Grandma and Grandpa Norman would cart us along and give us quarters to play pinball or the bowling game at Vernon’s Bar. They’d give us money to run across the street to the corner grocer to buy some comic books and candy. Then we’d sit at one of the tables and read, play, daydream or nap as they drank a few beers or whiskey sours, smoked Pall Malls and Chesterfields and share the weeks gossip and events. After a bit, we’d wrap it up and go back to the house. Grandpa would watch the news and Grandma Esther would call around to friends and gossip. I remember well her conversations with Aunt Bea Pitt.
It was a different world back then. And Grandma Esther was one of the best things about that bygone era.
Grandma Esther loved the beer barrel polka. She loved the US. She loved her children to a fault. She loved her Grandchildren (I’m certain that would have been to a fault as well. lol) She was the first person to teach me how to be patriotic. To love my country. She was highly superstitious. She loved people. She was trusting.
These are the things about her that I remember through the eyes of a child. I was around 12 or so when she passed.
The thing I remember most is how much I loved her, how much she loved me and how safe I felt with her.
I know life in those days was not perfect. We all have our faults. There are other times to speak of these things.
For now, this is my remembrance of a woman who in my memory was an awesome Grandmother. Who loved me. Who I loved and still love dearly.
Happy Birthday, Grandma Esther.