Can we all agree

40 Years Ago Today (June 14, 1986) The Center Grove Trojans won their first #IHSAA Softball State Championship! 🏆🥎🟥⬜️ @CGTrojansAD

The average American spends roughly 850 hours or 106 days working to cover their tax burden. Now, if you aren’t angry yet, read that again.

Do you agree with Tyrus?

Captain Cam

I saw something at the airport today and wanted to share it with you. A young military man named Michael (his full name was on his backpack) was waiting to board his plane. A random man walked up to him, thanked him for his service, and asked if he could pray for his safety. I started crying just watching this sweet moment unfold on my 16-hour flight across the country. It was such a beautiful thing to see. Americans never stop amazing me. I really hope this picture reaches the man in the uniform so he can see how many people are praying for him and wishing him safe travels." Credit: Sunny Sweeney

God bless this Judge!!

A Baby Elephant Tried Its Best to Save a Child, Then the Adult Elephant Stepped In and Lifted Him Back to Safety 🐘❤️

«Я вырос, ненавидя белых людей. Только белые учителя и тренеры в моей школе нравились мне, они были другими. Обычного же белого человека я не любил, скорее на подсознательном уровне. Пока рос, я постоянно слышал об одном и том же, про рабство и то, что белые сделали с моим народом. Молодой и неразумный мозг впитывал это и казалось, что все белые нажились на рабстве. В своём районе ты видишь сплошные трудности, но никто не хочет брать ответственность, все винят белого человека. Поэтому в такой обстановке ты просто начинаешь ненавидеть белых. А большинство белых американцев приехали уже после отмены рабства и не имели к нему никакого отношения. За два с лишним века трансатлантической работорговли в США привезли всего около 450 тысяч рабов, а в Южную Америку 10 миллионов. Масштабы несопоставимы, 450 тысяч, это меньше населения Скоттсдейла. Америка не была пропитана рабством, это лишь часть её истории. Добавлю, первый законный рабовладелец в американской истории, это был чёрный по имени Энтони Джонсон. Чернокожие тоже владели рабами, белых тоже линчевали, просто чернокожих больше. Но об этом вы никогда не услышите, потому что некоторые предпочитают сеять ненависть и ложь.»

Meet Officer Nuttall from the Bradenton Police Department. Recently, he came across a homeless family on the streets, where he met a deeply distressed mother who was crying due to their lack of shelter and a dog to care for. At the same time, her young son was sobbing from hunger. In an inspiring display of humanity, Officer Nuttall took immediate action, treating the family to a delicious pizza meal. He set up arrangements with the Humane Society to care for their dog for the night and secured a hotel room for them as well. To ensure their well-being continued, he approached us at the Salvation Army for assistance in finding them a place to stay once their hotel occupancy ended in the morning. We are committed to helping them. A heartfelt thank you goes out to Officer Nuttall for his exceptional kindness. Please share this to shed light on this incredible act of human kindness and to recognize the valuable work this officer does!

Smear the queer. Played it all the time at recess in the 70’s!

San Francisco Giants player Landen Roupp just gained a fan for life… He flipped the script on his "pride" hat, writing Genesis 9:12-16 next to the logo—The verses that say the rainbow is a symbol of God's covenant never to flood the earth again.

The hardware store closes at 6PM.. It's 5:58 when a kid walks in. The kid can't be more than sixteen. Soaking wet and shaking from the rain... "We're closing." Tom says. "Please. I just need a lock. For a door." Something in the kid's voice. Terror. Desperation. "What kind of lock?" "I don't know. Just one that keeps people out." The kid's got a black eye. Fresh. The kind that's still swelling. Tom doesn't ask. Just walks to aisle seven. Shows him the locks. The kid reaches for the cheapest one, $8.99. "That one's garbage," Tom says, "Won't stop anyone determined." He hands him a deadbolt. Heavy duty. $34.99. The kid's face crumbles. "I only have twelve dollars." They stand there. Store empty except for them. Tom takes the deadbolt to the register. Rings it up. "Twelve dollars." "But," "Sale price. Today only." The kid knows there's no sale. Knows this old man is lying. Tries not to cry and fails. Tom bags it. Adds a screwdriver. Free. "You know how to install it?" The kid shakes his head... They drive in Tom's truck. Don't talk. The kid directs him to a rundown duplex on the east side.   Upstairs apartment. Door frame cracked. Old lock broken, hanging loose. Tom installs the deadbolt. Takes him fifteen minutes. Tests it. Solid. Hands the kid both keys. "Someone tries to get in, you call 911. You hear me?" The kid nods. Tom's halfway to his truck when he hears it, "Why?" He turns around. The kid's standing in the doorway, backlit, holding those keys like they're made of gold. "Why did you help me?" Tom thinks about his own son. Twenty years ago. Different city. Same desperate eyes. Didn't make it. "Because you asked," Tom says simply. He drives home. Doesn't tell his wife. Doesn't think much about it. Three weeks pass. A woman comes into the store. Tired eyes but smiling. "Are you Tom?" "Yes, Ma'am." "My son told me about you. The lock you sold him." She's crying now. "His father, my ex-husband, he's not a good man. That lock kept us safe until I could get the restraining order. Until we could breathe." She hands Tom an envelope. "It's not much. But it's the thirty dollars we owed you, plus a little more." Tom tries to refuse. She won't let him. "You didn't just sell him a lock," she says. "You saw him. You saw us. When we were invisible." After she leaves, Tom opens the envelope. Sixty dollars. And a note from the kid: "Installed three more locks for neighbors who needed them. Taught myself how... "Going to trade school next year. Maybe I'll work in a hardware store someday. Be someone like you. -Marcus" Tom's manager notices him crying by the register. "You okay?" "Yeah," Tom says. "Just... yeah." That night, Tom stayed two minutes past closing. Then five. Then ten. In case someone walks in at 5:58PM. Soaking wet. Desperate. Needing more than just a lock. Tom learned something. The last customer of the day may be the most important one we ever serve.

I opened my daughter’s lunchbox and found $40 inside. Along with a handwritten note: “Thanks for feeding my kid this week.” I had no idea what it meant. My daughter Emma was 7 years old. As far as I knew, I was only packing lunch for one child. When she got home from school, I held up the envelope. “Want to explain this?” She shrugged. “Oh, that’s from Becca’s mom.” “Becca doesn’t have lunch money this week, so I’ve been sharing my sandwich.” Just like that. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. The next morning, I packed extra food. Two sandwiches. Two juice boxes. Extra snacks. Emma smiled. “Becca’s gonna be so happy.” Later that day, the school called me. My stomach dropped. I assumed Emma was in trouble. Instead, the principal sat me down and told me what had really been happening. For an entire week, Emma had quietly split every lunch in half. Half her sandwich. Half her apple slices. Half her cookies. She even gave Becca her juice box and drank water instead. No teacher told her to do it. No adult asked her to. She simply noticed another child sitting alone without food. And decided to help. The principal explained that Becca’s mother had fallen on hard times. She had already applied for the school’s free lunch program, but the approval process was taking longer than expected. Meanwhile, her daughter was going hungry. That evening, there was a knock at my door. A woman in scrubs stood on the porch. Exhausted. Nervous. Holding an envelope. “I’m Becca’s mom,” she said. “I know $40 doesn’t cover everything Emma shared, but it’s all I have until payday.” I could see how embarrassed she felt. So I handed the envelope back. “You don’t owe us anything.” “Emma wanted to share.” The woman started crying. Not loudly. Just the quiet tears of someone who had been carrying too much for too long. She told me her husband had left months earlier. Bills were piling up. She worked days, cleaned offices at night, and delivered food after that just to stay afloat. She barely saw her daughter. Then I asked: “What time do you get off work?” She looked confused. “Around 5:30.” “Then why don’t you and Becca come over for dinner?” An hour later, they were sitting at our table. The girls disappeared into Emma’s room laughing. Meanwhile, her mother and I talked. That’s when I learned she was actually a registered nurse. The problem wasn’t qualifications. It was finding a job with hours that worked for a single parent. As it happened, my company’s medical office was hiring. I connected her with the right people. She applied. Two weeks later, she got the job. No more cleaning offices late at night. No more midnight delivery shifts. No more choosing between time and survival. And it all started because a 7-year-old noticed something adults had missed: A little girl sitting alone with no lunch. Sometimes the biggest acts of kindness aren’t complicated. Sometimes they start with half a sandwich and a child who simply refuses to let someone eat alone. Credit: Kenna Bangerter

Austin Metcalf is dead. Let’s stop dancing around the obvious. Austin Metcalf received the death penalty. Karmelo Anthony received 35 years. One of them lives. One of them gets a gravestone. Save the faux outrage. The real victim in this case is NOT the convicted killer. The real victim is the young man who will never come home again and the family that will spend the rest of their lives grieving a loss that can never be undone. This was a track meet. A place for competition, teamwork, and sportsmanship. NOT violence. NOT murder. And spare us the racial narratives. Murder is wrong regardless of the race of the victim or the perpetrator. Any decent society should be able to agree on that. Austin Metcalf lost everything. His family got a life sentence of grief. And while some are busy turning this tragedy into a racial debate, the Metcalf family is looking at the empty chair at the dinner table and remembering who actually paid the highest price. Austin Metcalf got the death penalty. Never forget that.

Travel ball is bleeding families dry. Tournaments fees. Hotels. Food. Equipment. And now they charge parents insane amounts just to watch their own kid play. What’s next — pay-per-flush bathrooms? Enough is enough‼️

Kevin James fasted for 40 days straight for his daughter. She was on the spectrum, struggling badly with tics and sleep. Nothing was working. So he made a commitment: pray and fast. One day at a time. He was ready to quit multiple times, hungry, doubting, over it. Then one morning he knocked on her door and she said she finally slept well. He kept going. The prayers got answered, just not on his timeline. Raw, real, and a little “jokey” in how God works sometimes. Sometimes the breakthrough comes the exact day you’re about to stop pushing.

This is the most emotional thing you’ll see today. The bond between a soldier and his dog is unbreakable, even in death. 🙏🇺🇸❤💚

Great job!!

Hot Diggity Dog “You just PISSED ME OFF” Marion County FL Sheriff Billy Woods just went OFF on a piece of shit reporter who shifted topics away from a major sting operation to capture child sex criminals. “Out of all this shit, you want to ask about another case? We’re talking about CHILDREN! — THAT (points to the sex predators) is what you need to be focused on— this press conference is solely for those pieces of shit right there.” Drop a . If you approve his message rumble.com/v7b7a1i-you-just-…