Millionaire Athletes and Their Lost Cause

by Sylvia Thompson

Enough with the Victimhood:

I must admit I have never in my life purchased a ticket to a sports event. I am not a sports enthusiast. But I am an American black citizen, and I have had it up to the gills with black people who embrace victimhood. I also highly resent my being expected to do the same in order to affirm my "blackness."

Black victims these days, for the most part, are the product of decades of Black Americans being used primarily by white progressive leftists to advance an anti-American agenda.

The current brouhaha surrounding the despicable behavior of NFL athletes toward the National Anthem and the American flag is a prime example of what the Left has done to my race.

One must assume these players and their guilt-conflicted white coaches and owners (and victimhood-inflicted black coaches) are being manipulated by the Left, because no intelligent, thinking people would deliberately cut themselves off at the knees. Essentially, what these young misguided mostly black men are doing is ensuring the demise of their lucrative paychecks. Further, I would wager that if these teams consisted of all white athletes, none of this idiocy would be allowed. We are witnessing this travesty because the vast majority of players are black and can whine "oppression" if appropriate action is taken against them for their unconscionable behavior.

The twisted reasoning that claims these protests are to highlight "injustice" and "police brutality" is a laughable crock. What they do in fact is dishonor valued symbols of this nation's heritage and cover over truth about black crime.

Black males bear the brunt of police encounters because black males commit disproportion-ately more crimes. Police encounters with black men are so often confrontational because so many of these men, especially the young, don't think "compliance" applies to them. They foolishly assume they are above the law and disrespect for police officers is an act of honor.

These young blacks, sadly, took much of their direction from racists Obama and Eric Holder during Obama's destructive, eight-year regime and Holder's corruption of the Justice Department. These two men, abusing their federal powers, gave young blacks the impression they need not heed the law, because laws are somehow unjust when they are applied to black Americans. The NFL lot, and any other athletes taking a similar stance, are also influenced by Obama's and Holder's disdain for law and law enforcement.

I am not familiar with one case where a black suspect to a crime was not proven legally to have caused the behavior against him, particularly in cases where the police officer involved was exonerated by facts. Michael Brown of "hands up, don't shoot" infamy is one good example. Blatant lies were spread to cloud the truth about Brown's case.

Back in the day when I was growing up in the racially segregated South, the opposite prevailed in many cases. There was much injustice particularly toward black men, but not today. Today, too many blacks have been fed the notion that it is now "pay-back" time, and they can flaunt their lawlessness because some whites flaunted theirs during an earlier time in our nation's history.

Although Obama and Holder no longer wield power in this country, some of their minions continue on the pernicious path of "paying back" American whites for wrongs, real or imagined. But as the saying goes, there is a new Sheriff in town and he is not guilt-conflicted. He expects fair play under law and tolerating pay-back is not part of his agenda. Black Americans, when they break the law, can no longer claim victim status simply because they are black. Those days are over.

American laws and law enforcement personnel will be respected in America, again; our traditions and values will not be impugned in America without consequences, again. Anybody unsettled about this turn of events is welcome to leave this country. I suggest all the black players try a country in Africa, and see how successful they will be at making millions playing games. They will all soon learn what oppression really means.

Some self-directed, independent-thinking blacks (and there are many of us) have offered that if these millionaire protesters want to tackle some real problems, they might consider the thousands of black children killed in abortions annually (by the progressive Left), or perhaps the many, many young blacks murdered routinely on inner-city streets by other young blacks (in cities run by progressive, leftist Democrats), or the downright criminal state of education of black inner-city children, orchestrated by the progressive leftist National Education Association (NEA). The NEA's aim is to produce unintelligent pawns to feed the cause of progressivism.

I am annoyed by the expressions of "sincerity" gracing the faces of the NFL protesters-as if to convey the "hallowedness" of their cause. In actuality, they provide a picture of grown men allowing themselves to be made fools of by the progressive Left. I don't doubt, however, that some of these men have been coerced into compliance with this lost cause, either through threats of violence or shunning (from coaches and players). Alejandro Villanueva of the Pittsburgh Steelers and former Army ranger is very likely a victim of such threats. He was publicly castigated by his leftist coach for his patriotism. The coach demanded unity behind an ignorant cause.

And finally, this issue has nothing to do with First Amendment rights. President Trump's speaking out against the clownish behavior of the athletes, on behalf of the majority of American citizens, does not mean he can or would stop any of these misguided people from making fools of themselves. To restrict them, as a government entity, would indeed be a violation of the First Amendment... But their employers, if they were to develop even a modicum of testicular fortitude, could and should fire them for doing major damage to the bottom line of the business. The rest of us non-millionaire "Joes" would certainly be pink-slipped by an employer if we dared to be so clueless about the necessity of profits and so disdainful of the sensibilities of customers.

I will wait patiently for the true sports enthusiasts to vent their rage by simply boycotting the games. It will be sweet revenge to witness the slain goose cease producing its golden eggs.   

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Reprinted from: https://barbwire.com/enough-victimhood-millionaire-athletes-lost-cause/  

Sylvia Thompson is a black conservative writer whose aim is to counter the liberal, leftist spin on issues pertaining to race and culture. Ms. Thompson is a copy editor by trade currently residing in Tennessee. She grew up in Southeast Texas during the waning years of Jim Crow-era legalized segregation, and she concludes that race relations in America will never improve as long as the voices of many are stifled by intimidation from the few. She believes the nation needs resounding voices of opposition from true patriots and Bible-oriented Christians, to stem the forces that would transform this nation into something it was never intended to be.

PRESTON SCHOOL OF INDUSTRY

By Danna Shirley

Fictional story based on fact. 

It looked like a castle when we first pulled up. I didn’t know what to expect here but at least I was out of Folsom Prison. I shouldn’t have been put in with those old men anyway.

My first experience was to have my head shaved and dunked full body into a chemical bath to kill any lice or bugs. It also killed my dignity. Oh well, at least I’m getting three squares and a roof over my head; better than living on the outside and doing what I had to survive. So, what’s this Preston School of Industry, anyway?

I was assigned a room with another guy my age, Eddie. He’d been here a while and showed me around. Eddie and I had a fireplace in our room and across the hall, Earl and Clyde had the toilet. We would share back and forth. Made sense to me. We all worked in the garden, weeding and harvesting food for the cook. I was glad to be outdoors most of the day.

I had it pretty good. This place really was like a castle; 46,000 square feet, 77 rooms, 43 fireplaces, 257 windows overlooking the foothills of Ione, CA on 330 acres. If I played my cards right, I could graduate to one of the cottages that surrounded the castle.

My thoughts of escape subsided. They were going to teach me the ropes as an auto mechanic. Now I would learn to fix jalopies instead of hot-wiring them. If I kept my nose clean and didn’t make waves I could play tennis after my work was done or lounge in the library. I’d never had a book of my own but reading helped me escape to all kinds of adventures. I could see myself as Tarzan wrestling lions in the jungle or Frank Hardy solving mysteries. These stories took me away from the reality of the depression and the incarceration at The Castle.

I learned the real bad apples were in the Company B dormitory. I thought I was a pretty tough kid but I didn’t want to tangle with any of them. Since I was grateful to be here, I couldn’t understand why they would try to escape. When one went missing, a horn would sound and a manhunt would begin. Whoever returned the kid got a $10 reward. I heard some horror stories of the brutal punishment waiting for them; severe beatings with two-by-fours, solitary confinement, and in some cases, the offender died.

Although we were all around the same age, mostly teens, I was here as a “youthful offender” only; some of the other boys were here as criminals. Some came with addictions to opium, alcohol, or heroin. Some were very sick with TB. I heard the flu epidemic of 1918 wiped out half of the staff and about a third of the boys. From the tower I could see their graves surrounding the property. The infirmary was pretty busy with heat stroke, or broken bones from fights, or the punishment given out to those boys who tried to escape. I suspected not all of the graves on the property were from that flu epidemic.

I came to Preston at age fourteen and stayed four years. I learned a good trade and had read as many books as I could from the 7,000 volumes in the library. I did what I was told and obeyed all the rules. I left a better person than when I came; however, some of the boys went on to become hardened criminals with longer incarcerations in state prisons. 

                                       

Famous alumni successes of Preston School of Industry

Rory Calhoun (actor)             

    

Merle Haggard (singer)

 Lee J Cobb (actor)

 









Pancho Gonzales (tennis player)

 








Eddie "Rochester" Anderson (actor with Jack Benny)

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https://www.sacbee.com/entertainment/living/travel/sam-mcmanis/article25499146.html

Visiting Preston Castle (July, 2018) was a sad experience.  I wanted to write a positive story of one of the boys. Even though it is fiction, I hope and pray there were some successes to come out of Preston Castle.
     To see such a beautiful and majestic structure and then, by contrast, hear all the horrible details of severe treatment that took place inside, was hard to imagine. It's a wonder anyone came out of that environment intact.

Conundrum

copied from an email I received
Here are six conundrums of liberal-socialism in the United States of America: 

1. America is capitalist and greedy - yet half of the population is subsidized. 

2. Half of the population is subsidized - yet they call themselves victims. 

3. They think they are victims - yet the representatives they voted in run the government. 

4. Their representatives run the government - yet the poor keep getting poorer.

5. The poor keep getting poorer - yet they have things that people in other countries only dream about. 

6. They have things that people in other countries only dream about - yet they want America to be more like those other countries. 

THE DILEMMA

by Danna Shirley
Writing assignment: what if all modern services were cut off?
Dear Diary ~ June 19, 2018

The power has been off two weeks now and everyone is in a panic, not only because we have no power, but because we have no services at all. Everything is at a standstill…all over the world. Help is not coming; everyone is looking for their own help.

·        There is no communication with the outside world to find out what is happening. No television, telephones, newspapers, internet; not even carrier pigeons.

·        No water because the pumping stations can’t purify it and get it through the pipes to our homes. No bathing, clean clothes, or drinking water. No flushing toilets. Egad!

·        No fuel for our cars because the gas stations can’t operate the pumps and the tanker trucks can’t resupply the gas stations.

·        The grocery and Wal Mart shelves are empty because everything was bought and nothing is being delivered with any hope of restocking.

·        No food because nothing is being planted or harvested without farm machinery, much less being able to take it to the stores.

·        The banks are closed; no ATM, no cash withdrawal because they can’t determine account balances.

There is no way to, or reason for, Dad to go to work. He is just staying home trying to figure out how we can survive from day to day, doing his best to keep us all together without fighting and giving up, which is hard because it’s sweltering 90 degrees today and Tina keeps complaining she can’t wash her hair. OMG, hair is her last worry. Jeff can’t play video games and just sulks that there’s nothing to do.  

Yes, there is! He can carry water from the lake two blocks away so Mom can boil it on the grill. Dad even chopped down one of our trees for firewood. All the neighbors are doing the same. I wonder how long we’ll last when we run out of trees and lake water?

Dad grilled all the thawed-out food we had and then took some steaks and pork chops to the neighbors. No way to preserve it anyway. We’ve been using paper plates and plastic because we don’t want to waste water washing dishes. What will we do when they run out?

We still have our bikes for transportation but we have to watch for anyone lurking around trying to steal them from us. Crime and looting are common. We can’t even dial 9-1-1 to call the police. They couldn’t come anyway except on a bicycle and by then the culprits would already be gone. 

Even with all the stuff we DON’T have, we DO have what we don’t want—garbage; packages from thawed out meat, empty cans from the pantry after eating them, moldy and spoiled food…and the garbage trucks can’t come around to take it away. Garbage is overflowing the cans and piling up on the streets and sidewalks. The stench is becoming unbearable and the animals are rooting in it for their own food and scattering it all over.

We have reverted to Little House on the Prairie times except none of us have 40 acres to plant our own food, or a horse to plow the field, or a well to draw up water, or an outhouse that is 50 feet away so the flies won’t swarm in the door. EGAD, I just had a thought. What will we do when the toilet paper runs out! No wonder people had such poor hygiene and teeth back then.

Oh no, here I am only thinking of myself. Janet’s grandmother is in the hospital and was supposed to have surgery last week. What are the hospitals doing? They have to be so sanitary. What are they doing for patients who need medications and surgeries? And I’m sure doctors and nurses want to be home with their own families.

Could this be the end times that the Bible tells us about? I don’t want my family to be hoarders when God has always told us to do good, to be generous, and to share with those who have nothing. (Heb 13:16, 1 Tim 6:18, Luke 3:11)

The first scripture I ever learned was Luke 6:38…“Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.”

Okay, Lord, I’ll tell Dad so we can pray about how to live out God’s Word in conditions like this.

Dear Diary ~ June 20, 2018

Jeff went down to the lake for water this morning and some bullies stole his bike and the bucket he was carrying. He tried to fight back but he came home bloody with a gash on his face.

What now?

Your Life Needs Balance

You’re exposed to shocking and upsetting news stories on a nonstop basis...disasters, tragedies, political turmoil — it never ends. Honestly, I’m worried it’s gone too far. And I’m not the only one who’s concerned...

Psychologists are now saying too much negative news can cause something called compassion fatigue — sometimes nicknamed “news fatigue.” It’s the state of being overloaded with the bad news/events around you.

I want to show you a simple way to overcome this type of fatigue in this email. First, you have to know how to spot it. The first sign is usually feeling burnt out and detached. Soon after, your happiness and even your relationships start to suffer.

I know this firsthand. This type of fatigue is very common among surgeons. That’s because “bad news” is part of the job — like when you have to tell someone their life-threatening condition is inoperable.

However, thanks to all the bad news being reported in the media... it isn’t just doctors suffering from this anymore...People everywhere are now experiencing this kind of fatigue. That’s how it got the nickname “news fatigue.”

A well-known example happened back in 2006 — when thousands of burnt-out people wrote into the news station NPR. They were begging for a break from the tragic stories about the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina — one of the deadliest disasters in American history.  That was 2006. It’s now 2018, and news fatigue has become an epidemic — because bad news is everywhere you look...the paper, the radio, the TV, your computer, even your phone...

It’s all too easy to go for days without a break from it... and it can really get you down. So, to help you avoid getting as run down as I did, let me give you a crucial piece of advice:

You’ve got to BALANCE OUT all this bad news with good news.

Every day, take at least half an hour to focus on simple, joyous things in life. And I do mean simple. Open a good book. Spend time with loved ones. Go for a walk outside and leave your phone at home. Maybe even write a journal entry (pen and paper!) about the things you appreciate. One way or another, you have to give yourself a break from the constant state of alarm the media has you in.

Look, we all know there are terrible things in the world. And they deserve our attention. However, there are also wonderful things. And those deserve our attention, too. And the best part? Some of those wonderful things are within your grasp right now. Air in your lungs, clothes on your back, food on your plate, people you care about, corny jokes, good wine, sunshine outside, even RAIN outside...

These are all beautiful gifts the world has given you to experience. And you owe it to the world — and yourself — to enjoy them! So, get off this computer, and go enjoy! And you’ll likely be shocked at how rejuvenated you feel — almost instantly. I know I did.

Looking out for you,
Steven Gundry, MD

THE OLD TREE

by Danna Shirley

Writing assignment

She loved the old tree and had sought its shelter as a child. She played tea party under its branches and climbed high as she got higher herself. In summer it’s leaves were full but, in the fall, it was stripped bare and lifeless; just as she felt now, stooped and crying, seeking comfort from under the old tree she loved.

Her life had not gone as she had dreamed while under the old tree; love and laughter, marriage and children. She had chosen, instead, a career, success, and notoriety. Yes, she had become a famous author but at what price?

Her books gripped the interest of the industry, as well as each individual reader. Why couldn’t she write her own life’s story with as much creativity and happy ending as on the pages of her novels. Too busy! Shut away in the tomb of fiction with her computer, always seeking and searching for a new and somehow different setting, characters, or storyline that wouldn’t seem the same as every other novel she’d written.

Age was creeping in now and it pained her to type with arthritic fingers, an aching back from embracing the keyboard, and poor circulation from lack of exercise; all because she was married to her profession.

She reminisced of her childhood and her return home to the old tree for comfort once again. If she’d only made different choices before these twilight years had surprised her. But, alas, you can’t go home again. Age is cruel and time doesn’t stand still.

Yes, there it was, her final novel. Age, time, twilight years, going home again. If she couldn’t relive her life, she would write a happier ending to this one.

LOG CABIN LIFE

by Danna Shirley

Writing assignment~pioneer life

I was one a three girls an’ four boys, oldest of all the young’un’s, when Ma an’ Pa took us by wagon from Kentucky ta Tennessee ta look for a new homestead; better soil for plantin’ an’ growin’ crops. We was poor an’ couldn’t buy no slaves ta help build the cabin, so’s we all pitched in cutting trees an’ strippin’ ‘em down fer logs.

I had double duty helpin’ Ma with the cookin’ an’ cleanin’ an’ then choppin’ an’ cuttin’ firewood so’s my brothers could work in the field with Pa. My two sisters was too young to help much ‘cept play an’ need tendin’ to so’s not ta wander off. There was still injuns ‘round about an’ we had ta keep a sharp eye. Nothin’ was easy in them days but it got better after the cabin went up an’ we slept under a roof ‘stead a under the wagon.  

The inside wall was the same as the outside wall an’ we stuffed the inside walls with sticks an’ twigs an’ anythin’ we could find to fill up the gaps. Pa dug a big hole next ta the pond an’ we filled it with water ta stir up inta mud. My two little sisters loved makin’ mud pies in the hole an’ Pa let ‘em ‘cause it kept the mud wet an’ easy to stick ‘tween the logs. Then my brothers hauled it up from the pond ta the cabin so’s Pa could slap it on.

It sealed tight but it was still pretty cold in winter. Later on, Pa built a dogtrot through from front door ta back an’ added on a room so’s we could spread out an’ get some air flowin’.

I wanted ta mark the cabin as ours so I writ down on a small paper all our names an’ the year an’ stuck it ‘tween two logs in the corner a the parlor. Don’t know if anyone were ta ever find it but ta me, it sealed us ta the cabin forever an’ ever…

Morgan Family - 1837

Dawson Morgan and

Agatha Kelsey Morgan

Bertha 14

Dexter 12

Percy 11

Cecil 9

Norman 7

Jemima 5

Clara 3