Today we celebrate Independence Day, the day we declared our freedom from Great Britain.
On June 7, when the Continental Congress met at the Pennsylvania State House (later Independence Hall) in Philadelphia, the Virginia delegate Richard Henry Lee introduced a motion calling for the colonies’ independence.
Amid heated debate, Congress postponed the vote on Lee’s resolution, but appointed a five-man committee—including Thomas Jefferson of Virginia, John Adams of Massachusetts, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania and Robert R. Livingston of New York—to draft a formal statement justifying the break with Great Britain.
On July 2nd, the Continental Congress voted in favor of Lee’s resolution for independence in a near-unanimous vote (the New York delegation abstained, but later voted affirmatively).
On July 4th, the Continental Congress formally adopted the Declaration of Independence, which had been written largely by Jefferson. Though the vote for actual independence took place on July 2nd, from then on the 4th became the day that was celebrated as the birth of American independence.
Sadly, the United States has been in a slow decline of late, but it’s still the best country on Earth.
Well, today is Father’s Day, a holiday which commemorates some troglodyte who was lucky enough to inseminate a woman.
I’ve never been a big fan of Father’s Day; in my opinion it’s a made-up holiday like Juneteenth and, say, Veterans Day. (I kid, I kid.) Mother’s Day is actually a thing, and they deserve their own day. Guys like me, who will be watching NASCAR and playing PlayStation all day, don’t usually celebrate – or even know the date of – Father’s Day.
I mean, I’d like to think I am at least a below-average father – Kyle usually tells me that – but I work hard to put food on the table, and take an interest in the kids’ activities.
For the rest of you real fathers, I hope you enjoy the day. My only wish at this point is to have hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner. That is the zenith of my expectations.
“Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” (John 11:25)
Today is Easter Sunday, the holiest day in Christianity. The day Jesus Christ rose from the dead and promised eternal life for all who believe in Him. Even for people who don’t deserve it, like yours truly.
This last year has been the most trying of my life. My mother passed away, I lost two friends to cancer, my cousin’s son took his own life, and most recently, the Covid decimated Mrs. Earp and me. I keep asking myself why this is happening to me, but the more I think about it, things like this happen to everyone. It is not focused upon me or my family. Everyone has it difficult, because if life wasn’t difficult it would not be worth living.
There are days I curse people for what they do, or I curse myself for being a terrible Christian. But I believe. Despite all the tragedies, all the injustices, I still believe there is a better reward in Heaven. Until my ticket is punched, I’ll still at least try to be a better person.
Whether you’re a Christian or not, enjoy this wonderful day.
Today is Saint Patrick’s Day, one of the foremost holidays in the Republic of Ireland, as well as many countries across the globe.
Saint Patrick was a 5th-century Romano-British Christian missionary and bishop in Ireland. Much of what is known about Saint Patrick comes from the Declaration, which was allegedly written by Patrick himself. According to the Declaration, at the age of sixteen, he was kidnapped by Irish raiders and taken as a slave to Gaelic Ireland. It says that he spent six years there working as a shepherd and that during this time he “found God”. After making his way home, Patrick went on to become a priest.
According to tradition, Patrick returned to Ireland to convert the pagan Irish to Christianity. The Declaration says that he spent many years evangelizing in the northern half of Ireland and converted “thousands”. Patrick’s efforts against the druids were eventually turned into an allegory in which he drove “snakes” out of Ireland, despite the fact that snakes were not known to inhabit the region.
Tradition holds that he died on 17 March and was buried at Downpatrick. Over the following centuries, many legends grew up around Patrick and he became Ireland’s foremost saint.
Here’s wishing all you Irish descendants have a terrific day. Sláinte!
Well, our long national nightmare is over. 2020 is dead and buried, which makes me happy because it has been the worst year of my life.
I’d like to think 2021 will be better, but I’m a realist. The Democrats will continue their lockdowns – “for the children” – Joe Biden will likely be allowed to steal the 2020 election, and progressives will continue to try and rule our lives.
That said, we still live in the greatest country on Earth – for now – and while things are pretty terrible right now, they will most definitely get better.
Stay the course, give no quarter, and hang tough.
P.S. – I’m pretty sure Philly hit 500 homicides for the year. I’ll post the final number the second I get it.
UPDATE: Okay, so what I’m being told is we hit 500 homicides yesterday, but they held over #500 until after midnight so they could claim it was the first murder of 2021. As usual, they are fudging the numbers – in reality, we’re WAY over 500 – because I guess they think 499 is better than 500.
That said, I’m logging 500 into the Homicide Tracker, because I know the city is lying.
While it’s conceivable that none of us will be attending a lavish New Year’s Eve party tonight – thanks fascist Democrat politicians – it is possible some of you will sneak out to get some thrills before the worst year in recorded history concludes.
Of course, your New Year’s Eve could be like mine last year, where I spent three hours waiting for someone to change Kyle’s tire on the coldest night of the year. He popped a tire on his way to a party, I sat and waited for the tow AFTER I drove him to the party. By time I got home, all the munchies were gone, because my kids are little piggies.
But I digress.
That said, the majority of people on the roads tonight will be either mildly toasted, or vomiting in their own laps. Don’t drink and drive, and if you have to drive, steer clear of populated roads. It’s a terrible night for accidents, especially fatals. I certainly cannot lose any more readers, and I’m not a good enough blogger to attract new ones.
While searching for an appropriate quote, I decided to choose something which resonates for me.
“Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever.” – 1 Timothy 1:15-17
Enjoy your day, and remember the reason for the season.
I’ve always also posted the two greatest Christmas songs of all time on Christmas Eve. Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses and Christmas in Hollis (immortalized in Die Hard – the greatest Christmas movie) by Run-DMC.
The Guardian posted the story about the creation of Christmas Wrapping this year. The composer wanted nothing to do with a Christmas song, and never expected it would amount to anything. Now it’s one of the most popular Christmas songs with those of us who grew up in the 80’s.
Patty Donohue, the lead singer, passed away in 1996 from cancer. She was only forty years old.
And movie fan should remember this song from Die Hard, when Argyle is driving John McClane to Nakatomi Plaza.
Here’s hoping your Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are festive.
Ladies, and gentlemen, boys and girls, I have officially commenced my Christmas vacation, so go find some other place to hand out for the next fifteen days!
Okay, I’ll obviously still be posting, but I will be doing so without being surrounded by callers, criminals, and my coworkers. I can see it now…
Look at them there, sullyling my chair,
There are jobs to enter, aren’t you aware?
That report needs a number, from someone less dumber,
Say hasta luego to idiot Diego.
Bullets are flying, and people are dying,
Ask how many dead, the mayor starts lying.
We work on our jobs with little fanfare,
Cause people in power really don’t care.
Eh, I’m no Dr. Seuss, but I played one in high school and college.
Today is Princess P’s twelfth birthday!
Five years ago when my neighbor took this photo, I assumed she would be my little girl forever. Boy how things change. In the time since this photo, Julia has started dancing lessons – ballet and jazz – began Krav Maga lessons – and will likely have her junior black belt test early next year – and self-taught her way to being a pretty good artist.
Of course, she has her moments; “becoming a woman” has given her more than a few moody days, and she still argues with her older brothers, but for the most part, she’s a solid kid. She also loves her dad – usually – and still gives me hugs and kisses before bed.
Julia’s birthday dinner will be nachos. Happy birthday, Princess P! We love you very much.
Of course, this time next year, she’ll be a teenager in one year. May God have mercy on us all.