Tuesday, April 04, 2017

A Time To Kill

                                                  PHOTO/EDITS BY RUTH RADER
Spring is supposed to be a time of renewal...another chance to begin again. (And for those who wonder, the tiny house movement is my other obsession right now.)


But this year, April is opening
more than leaf buds and the petals of fragrant flowers. This time around...an evil is emerging and
it's growing.

I see it as a direct threat and after five minutes of thought, I am going to finish this
opening paragraph with a sentence that I never thought that I would include in this blog. Ever. I want someone to kill Kim Jong-un.

                                THE ATTACHED MESSAGE IN KOREAN IS FROM ME

After twelve years of posting in this blog, I am not sure what Google is going to think about that
last sentence. But I have posted it now and barring official legal action...the sentence is going to
stay right where it is.

If  that demented son of a bitch feels no remorse when he releases photos and videos of rocket launches...weapons that he intends to use to kill people en masse in this Country...then as far as
I'm concerned...that bastard is fair game. 

A couple that I know have a little baby girl (eight months old now) named Hannah Joy. She is
without a doubt one of the cutest babies on the planet. Hannah has bunny rabbit eyes and a
pair of dimples that could melt an angel's heart.

When I watch the nasty videos coming out of North Korea right now...I get really pissed.  And
then I want someone to blow Kim Jong-un's head right off of his fat neck. BOOM!

I sincerely hope that someone kills that P.O.S. soon. And let his bad intentions die with him.
This is my second post on this subject and it probably won't be my last.

The time for diplomacy is over. It's time to lock-and-load, America. It damn well surely is.

This post is for every eight-year-old who got off the bus today holding onto a crayon masterpiece
meant for her mom and dad. It's for every twelve-year-old boy climbing into a pickup truck with a
ball, glove and his mind focused on a dream. It's for the small business man who will have the
coffee ready in a small town tomorrow morning. It's for the woman drawing an incredible song
from the strings of a guitar.

Kim Jong-un lives in a Country of control and lies. He tries to hide what he considers to be undesirable and less than perfect. But thanks to savvy and brave photographers like Eric Lafforgue,
the truth about North Korea is being revealed...more and more every day.


May God watch over those courageous Americans who are standing ready on the "front line"
right now. May He give them the ability to protect those who respect what life is really about
and to flatten those that don't.


Thursday, March 30, 2017

Choose Carefully, Fat Boy

Babies are born every day...and they all have rights. It's possible that some babies were born during the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But the rights of
all life in Japan was cancelled-out by the bombs that were dropped from the Enola Gay and
the Bockscar aircraft in early August of 1945.

The United States was pushed into a corner after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Our Country had
no other choice.

Now, we are facing a worthless, demented individual who laughs and claps like a three-year-
old as he watches weapons being tested. He wants blood but I believe that the only blood that
he should taste is his own.

He wants to kill our babies. He wants to obliterate families
and destroy destinies.
The United States of America won't tolerate Kim Jong Fat Boy-un's inhuman behavior much
longer. He has been warned. If he tries...he dies and his people will die right along with him. That is the truth.

Now, at this pivotal time in history a choice will be made again. And that decision will prove
that Kim Jong-un is either too stupid to stop a senseless war or suddenly strong enough to keep
the peace.

Choose carefully, Fat Boy.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Private Message

                                        PHOTOS/EDITS BY RUTH RADER
Private Message: You can wear the same clothes when you're glad that you wore when
you were mad.