Little penny Powell had all manner of medical problems among which her kidneys weren’t functioning and she had such a rare blood type the odds were million to one a donor could be found. But she inherited the blood type from her Grandpa and once he understood he was a match he was all in – no hesitation and here he and she are today. He even looks like a nice guy.
Purchase Richard F. Miniter’s latest book What Sort Of Parents Should We Be; A Man’s Guide To Raising Exceptional Children Here
For those of you who are into such things this just surfaced photo from the Korean War displays all three of the standard U.S. Marine infantry weapons: the M1 Rifle , the Browning Automatic Rifle, and the M1 Carbine. Still maybe the best there ever were because the M1 will hit you twice as far out as the M16 and the BAR three times. But that’s just my opinion. Semper Fi
P.S. The BAR weighed twice as much as the M1 and as always the thing always got assigned to the smallest guy just like in the picture. Hah!
Washington D.C. isn’t the best place to do that in the month of August I know but he could walk on the beach and since he doesn’t, have a beach body to show off simply walk around with his pants rolled up and pole in hand pretending he’s a surf fisherman. Or how about shooting Skeet? I know he could get on the range at Quantico or Camp David where he could use one of those pussy ported shotguns that Obama favored and, break a few clays. That would be fun. Push come to shove he could even climb up on the White House roof, take his shirt off, break out one of those shiny cardboard reflectors used by old-timers on park benches in Manhattan and get some rays that way.
Something just so he doesn’t look like he died last Thursday and forgot to fall over.
However in fairness you have to put a lot of this down as the new Chief-Of-Staff’s fault. He’s a Marine General for Pete’s sake. He and his Sergeant Major should be forming everybody into ranks at zero dark thirty, having them do fifty squat thrusts and then run around Lafayette Park. It wouldn’t only wring some of the flop sweat out of Presidential assistants like Bannon but produce cheering crowds anxious to watch Hope Hicks, Melania and Ivanka long leg it in the little red briefs and sweaty extra thin gray tee shirts U.S. Marine recruits run their morning PT in.
And yes in case you’re asking – I am a very shallow person.
You should still buy my latest book Here.
A unique and very American view of the phenomena of British children’s stories is also the most frequently stolen library book in the United States – I Know How The Heather Looks by Joan Bodger. Twenty years or so ago I had the opportunity to interview Mrs. Joan Bodger and she described writing that book as “catching a story on a wing.” And what a lovely wing it was.
It’s the true story of what happened when her and her husband, young American parents of a boy and girl, were left a modest bequest not too long after the Second World War. What to do with it? What they did do was something nobody thought of before. They decided to squander it all by taking their children on a tour of the actual locations on the other side of the Atlantic which influenced many of the great English children’s stories they were reading.
Read the book by the fire this winter. Or take it along if you vacation somewhere warm and take it in along with the sun. Because the story gets you wondering, as mayhaps no other will, what you yourself can do to encourage a sense of adventure and spontaneity in your own children. Instill a love of the English language. Of stories.
Several mornings ago I was sitting in my screened in back porch drinking my first cup of coffee of the day when a Grackle landed on the edge of the Otter fountain we keep running for the birds. Then when when she stuck her head in for a drink a silent menacing flyer sailed down from the left and plucked her up. Only a little bit larger than the Grackle itself there was a flurry of struggling wings and the predator bird whatever it was barely got the Grackle to a perch on top of the fence which surrounds two sides of our property. There it killed its victim by biting its head off, turned and flew south lugging the rest of its dinner.
Different from the Hawks like the Coopers, Red-Tail and Red-Shoulder I occasionally see so I looked it up in Audubon. It was a immature Northern Harrier and appears to be haunting the bird feeding station because visitors have just about disappeared.
Despite the fact that in the past it has been known as the “Good Hawk” because it won’t bother chickens it has been seen to take ducks by drowning them first. Who drowns a duck? Strange.
It’s on the plane of Herons drowning baby rabbits in order to swallow them whole.
Let’s hope it moves on..
Gavin McInnes in Taki Magazine today. Read it, laugh in delight, print it out and quote in at cocktail parties (do people have those anymore) barbecues, but especially at family dinners where your obnoxious cousin in her third year at Smith is always railing about toxic masculinity. Read it here.