Wordless Wednesday…

Grrr… Apparently my Wordless Wednesday also turned into a postless Wednesday…

Sorry!!!FUll moon

Hillary

Oops…

It appears I have been remiss, as an email pointed out I have not posted any pictures of the new grandbaby.

Without further ado, let me present Kaya Jean at three weeks…

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And once… Just once, all three of the grandkids were asleep at the same time during the day…

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Khalil, now 17 and 6’2″, Kaya, and Jace.

And Vito was asleep on the floor next to them.

PP is doing well, all things considered and recovering slowly.

Little things…

{1} Once all villagers decided to pray for rain, on the day of prayer all the people gathered, but only one boy came with an umbrella.

That’s FAITH

{2} When you throw a baby in the air, she laughs because she knows you will catch her.

That’s TRUST

{3} Every night we go to bed, without any assurance of being alive the next morning but still we set the alarms to wake up.

That’s HOPE

{4} We plan big things for tomorrow in spite of zero knowledge of the future.

That’s CONFIDENCE

{5} We see the world suffering, but still we get married and have children.

That’s LOVE

{6} On an old man’s shirt was written a sentence ‘I am not 91 years old … I am sweet 16 with 75 years’ experience.

That’s ATTITUDE

Have a good week and live your life like the six tiny stories !

h/t Frito

Aviation Art…

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This image reflects the unique nose art of one of the B-24’s in the Zodiac Squadron. The original nose art was painted by Phil S. Brinkman while he was assigned to the Army Air Force Station 174 in Sudbury, England. Brinkman joined the Army Air Corps in the summer of 1942. He was assigned to Special Services, when he entered the army, since he was an accomplished commercial artist at the time.

Shortly after he arrived at Davis-Monthan Airbase in Tucson, Arizona, he completed a large mural which attracted attention and was seen by the commander of the 834th Bomb Squadron, Captain “Jip” Howell, who set up a transfer to bring Brinkman into the 834th.

The idea of adorning the B-24’s of Capt. Howell’s with unique nose art resulted in the famous “Zodiac Bombers” including “Leo.“ In the spring of 1944, the 486th Bomb Group, comprised of the 832nd, 833rd, 834th and the 835th Bomb Squadrons was sent to England.

Wow…

This is some incredible footage of the shuttle launch from a ‘different’ camera angle…

Onboard the booster rockets themselves!!! HD even!

You can read more details of the video HERE.

h/t Jimmy

The Grey Man- Partners…

Is almost done, in final edit now, and awaiting a couple of beta readers comments; expect to have it out next month…

This is a first cut on the cover, not finalized so expect some changes. Total is a little over 400 pages, so not by choice the price will go up by about a dollar on the print version.

Partners3

One last tease for y’all- This is the TD:DR version… 🙂

Epilog

Thanksgiving had turned out to be surprisingly warm, so they’d set up tables in the back yard. Gathered round the tables were Aaron, Jesse and Jace, Matt and Felicia, Clay and Ronni Boone, Eddie and Iris Guilfoile, Jose and Beverly Rodriquez, Billy Moore and the old man at the head of the table.

Jose asked, “So, Matt, how are you liking our little town and working for the old grouch down there?”

Laughter followed the question, as Matt took a sip of coffee, “Well, he hasn’t run me off yet, nor shot me, Sheriff. So I’m thinking that’s pretty good.” Reaching over and hugging Felicia, “And with Felicia’s family here, she’s happy too. I guess it doesn’t get any better than that.”

Beverly looked at Felicia and Iris, then asked, “Aren’t you both due?”

Felicia sighed, “Actually I’m due today. But the doctor says he’ll wait a week, if I don’t have the baby by then, he’s going to induce. Angelina checks on me every morning, and drives me nuts!”

Iris blushed, “I’m due next month. I just hope we have the baby before Christmas, or at least before New Year’s.”

Billy chimed in, “Tax break! Yep, you need to have it before the end of the year. If worst comes to worst Eddie, find the roughest road you can and…”

Laughter erupted around the table at that, and Iris blushed even redder as Jesse took a swipe at Billy. Eddie reached down and picked up a bag and handed it across to Aaron diffidently, “I been thinkin’ about your problem Aaron, and I come up with this bike thingie. I think it might work.”

Aaron opened the bag and pulled out a stirrup with a strange looking plate bolted to the stirrup. Looking at it, he cocked his head, “How would this work Eddie?”

Eddie said, “It’s one of those clamp thingies all them bike racers use to keep their feet on the, the pedals. I was thinkin’ if you wore one of them shoes like they do, you could clamp it in and it would stabilize the leg and foot. And you would be able to mount from the correct side.”

Matt looked at it, “Yeah, you slip the shoe in and press down, and it locks in. And if you needed to get out of the stirrup, all you’d have to do is twist the foot to release it. And I think they come loose if you fall too.”

Matt passed it to Clay and Ronni who looked at it curiously, and passed it on to the Sheriff and his wife. Clay commented, “You should look at patenting that Eddie, or something like it. That would be one helluva idea for those folks that want to ride but don’t because of prosthetics issues.”

Billy got it and said, “Nah, it’s not patentable, since the clamp is already patented, but it’s a damn good idea, and I’d get it out to all the veteran’s organizations for their therapy folks.”

Jose asked, “How’s the class going Aaron?”

Aaron shook his head, “The book stuff isn’t too bad, and the PT is no problem. The issue is being away from Jesse and Jace.” Giving Jesse a quick hug, he said, “With Billy letting me stay there, and getting the occasional weekend off, I can at least get back here a couple of times a month. And Billy is teaching me the ins and outs of the Texas code, which will be a big help when I finally take the tests for Peace Officer.”

Billy flipped his pigtail back and pronounced, “And I expect to never get another ticket in Pecos County for the rest of my life. That’s what I expect for putting up with Aaron.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, and everyone chuckled. The old man asked, “How is Momma Trần treating you?”

Aaron smiled as Billy laughed, “She’s convinced I’m not eating enough, or drinking enough tea, and she’s concerned about Jesse and the fact that I only see her once a month. Mother hen doesn’t begin to describe it!”

Billy chimed in, “She’s getting food delivered every day, and she’s making him breakfast at five in the morning. She won’t let him out the door until he eats.”

The old man nodded, “Yep, she’s adopted you. Maybe not officially, but you’re now a member of the family.”

Aaron asked curiously, “Is that good or bad?”

Billy and the old man chorused, “Good!” And the old man continued, “If she’s doing all that, it’s not because she has to, it’s because she wants to. Just don’t get her mad at you. She’s got a long reach!”

Clay asked, “Is she that connected? I’ve only met her that one time.”

Billy nodded, “She’s got connections into every Vietnamese business in Houston, and probably at least contacts in every Vietnamese enclave in the US. And no telling how much or how well connected she is back in Vietnam.”

Clay shook his head, “I didn’t realize she was that important, or that connected.”

Billy replied, “She’s managed to get a lot of folks out, and helped set them up in various parts of the US. I’m not sure how much money they got out with, but I’m betting she’s at least a millionaire, if not more.”

Aaron whistled, “I didn’t know any of that!”

Billy smiled, “You’re not supposed to. You’re supposed to think she’s a slightly dotty old lady, who doesn’t speak good ‘Engrish’ as she calls it, and tries ineffectively to boss her family around. She’d be horrified to know that I even know about it, much less that I’ve let anyone in on her secret.”

The old man turned to Eddie and asked, “Speaking of secrets, how are the colts doing? You’ve been staying pretty mum on them.”

Eddie ducked his head, “Good. I been working with Spots, and I’m going to bring him and Shadow back up here in the spring. They won’t be broke to the saddle and ready to ride, since they’re still yearlings, that’ll take another six months. But they will have ground training, I’ve been working on in-hand manners, longeing, trailer loading and good behavior for all grooming and health care stuff, like shoeing.”

Eddie spun his coffee cup, “I think Shadow will be better for Matt, since he’s going to be about seventeen hands, and Matt can train him on long-lining. Aaron would be better with Spots, since he’s going to be a bit smaller, and he’s more mellow than Shadow.”

Matt groaned, “Okay, one thing I’ve never done is horse training. Granted I can ride, after a fashion, and I can rope something if it stands still, but that’s about the limit.”

Felicia laid a hand on Matt’s arm, “You can, no, you will do it my husband.” Patting her bulging belly, she continued, “We have faith.” Another round of laughter followed that statement as Jesse went around the table pouring more coffee for those that wanted it.

Clay sipped his coffee and said, “Speaking of faith, or maybe fate, it’s been awfully quiet on the border the last month. Seems Los Zetas, LFM and Sinaloa are all battling over territory after an incident down in Chiapas with all of them blaming the others for losing a shipment of MANPADS and apparently some Muslim extremists that were supposed to be smuggled into the US.”

The old man met Aaron’s glance with a minute shake of the head, “That’s interesting Clay, where did you hear that?”

Clay set his cup down, “Well, originally from EPIC, but apparently Bucky had an agent down there paired with somebody that observed the incident.” Clay looked sharply at the old man, “Seems all that went down about the time you were on vacation.”

The old man held up his hands, “Wasn’t me! Hell, you know they didn’t believe me on the intel I passed. Aaron and I were sitting on the beach in Cozumel, drinking tequila and I was trying to get him up to speed on the ranch stuff.”

Clay looked at Aaron curiously, “Getting up to speed?”

Aaron nodded cautiously, “I was getting frustrated with trying to do things here, and I really didn’t understand not only the ranching side, but I really didn’t understand the oil royalty side.” Pointing at Billy he continued, “Mr. Moore is trying to beat it into my head, but it’s a slow process, and a lot of legalese. I’m a damn Jarhead, I don’t do legalese!”

Laughter erupted at that and the old man smiled, “It was a chance for us to talk about not only ranching, but about law enforcement. Aaron did understand that part, and it’s led him down that path.” Glancing at Clay he asked, “Are you really complaining?”

Clay shrugged, “Not really, it’s just that I get nervous when shit is going on that I can’t account for.”

Ronni chimed in, “I like the quiet though. Having Clay home every night is a blessing. Especially when it gets cold. He’s nice and warm.”

Clay blushed at that, and everyone laughed again. The old man stood saying, “A toast.” Everyone picked up a glass or cup and waited, “To partners. In love, in life, and in ranching.”

A chorus of, “Partners,” followed by the clinking of glasses and cups as everyone drank.

Sorry for the delay folks, but life intervened…

Cases dropped…

Baltimore prosecutors have dropped the cases against the remaining three officers in the death of Freddie Gray. Of course the mayor and State Attorney Mosby blame it on the police and ‘uncooperative’ police and a bad justice system…

Maybe she should have thought of that BEFORE she jumped out there with the protesters…

– The Washington Times – Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Prosecutors Wednesday morning dropped all remaining charges against three officers who were waiting to stand trial in connection with the death of Freddie Gray in Baltimore.

In motions ahead of the trial of Officer Garrett Miller, one of six officers charged in the Gray case, prosecutors announced the decision in the wake of three acquittals and growing pressure to cut their losses.

In an impassioned speech Wednesday at the site of Gray’s arrest Baltimore State’s Attorney Marilyn Mosby said she has no regrets in bringing charges against the six officers. While some trial watchers have said the state did not bring the evidence to prove its theory of Gray’s death — and city Judge Barry Williams agreed in acquitting three of the officers — Ms. Mosby blamed uncooperative police, the media and a broken justice system.

Full article HERE at Washington Times.

The better question is, has a SINGLE looter or rioter been arrested and prosecuted??? Of the original 200+ arrested, over half were released without charges in 48 hours…

An hour or so of digging and I came up with THREE people who were actually charged (by DOJ, not Baltimore State’s Attorney), HERE.

It’e enough to make you wonder where their priorities are, doesn’t it…

Truth…

However politically incorrect it may be…

The Greatest Disaster in U.S. Military History

By Ray Starmann

Operation You Go Girl is destined to fail; failure defined not as a NO GO, or an F, but as the nation’s young women flown home in flag draped Glad Bags when the nation loses the next war(s). When this happens, the Hollywood producers, the feminists and the cultural Marxists who were responsible for forcing the nation’s women to experience the horrors of ground combat will scratch their heads and wonder why reality is so much different from their imaginary ideas of women in combat.

Think about this: US defense policy is now being run on a fantasy propagated by Hollywood, feminists and cultural Marxists.

Hollywood created the fantasy of the rough and tough, hard charging female cop. On any given night, on any given network, you can watch an anorexic 95 pound model, turned NYPD detective brandish a pistol larger than her waist and proceed to karate chop and cuff and stuff a myriad of male heavyweight thugs with the imaginary aplomb of Chuck Norris on all night POW camp raid.

Goodbye Popeye Doyle…

Unfortunately, real war is much different than a Demi Moore movie. A battlefield is not gender neutral. On a battlefield the roughest, toughest sons of bitches win the fight. What remains of the losers are picked at by ravens or fade away like dust in the wind.

Unfortunately, the Pentagon, the White House and Congress are no longer living in reality.

Simply put, the authorization in December 2015 to allow women to serve in the combat arms (infantry, armor, cavalry, artillery) and special operations forces (SEALs, Green Berets, Rangers, Delta Force, Marine Raiders) of the US armed forces is the greatest disaster in US military history.

The defenders of this insanity will say that women have been in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan so what’s the big deal? Returning fire when your convoy is attacked or defending yourself during a military police security operation is different than being in a unit with the sole mission of killing the enemy and seizing and holding ground. It’s like comparing peddling a beach cruiser to racing in the Tour de France.

The social engineers will cry that the standards will remain the same. Horse dung and hay: the standards were already warped so that the three females could graduate from Ranger School. They had months of special training, nutritionists, endless chances to repeat the course, etc. Ninety-nine percent of the women in the world simply cannot meet the male physical standards of the combat arms and special operations units. No amount of estrogen charged You Go Girl battle cries, or Universal Studios light and magic shows can stop reality. Reality says a million times over that women simply don’t have the physical strength, aerobic lung capacity or aggressiveness to withstand life in the combat arms and special operations. They are also more prone to stress fractures and other injuries.

Has anyone in the Pentagon wondered why they’re authorizing women for ground combat duty, yet the PGA won’t allow women to play with Jordan Spieth and Dustin Johnson in any tournament. Why, because women don’t have the physical strength to hit a golf ball as far as men, that’s why.

So, the Masters is out for women, but the Green Berets are in. Are you kidding me?

Either there will be double standards or the standards will be made gender neutral and so weak that the fat ladies driving around Walmart in two horsepower electric carts will become Navy SEALs.

Another factor dooming Operation You Go Girl are the emotional issues surrounding young men and women living together in garrison and more importantly, in the field.

The military says that good leadership will put a damper on human sex drive. Newsflash social engineers, no amount of ROTC Leadership 101 is going to stop an 18 year old with an erection in a movement to contact with a 36-24-36 cheerleader, Private Babs Horny. Get a grip; the Army and the Marines are about to become nothing more than a high school summer camp with guns and high explosives.

You have to wonder if the social engineers who are throwing a wrecking ball into the US military have any knowledge at all about combat, the military and war itself. People like Obama, Joe Biden, Ash Carter, Ray Mabus, Eric Fanning and the rest of the military’s executioners should study battles like The Wilderness, Verdun, Tarawa, Peleliu, Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Normandy, the Bulge, Khe Sanh and Tet. Think modern war can be won by diversity and technology; just ask the Marines who fought at Fallujah, or the soldiers from the Big Red One in Desert Storm who got into hand to hand fighting with the Republican Guard during the Battle of Norfolk, on the night of 26 February 1991.

War is about one thing; killing the enemy before he can kill you. It has nothing to do with equal opportunity, diversity, LGBT rights, transgender expression and ludicrous fantasies emanating from Professor Birkenstock’s women’s studies class.

Call me a cynic, but I think the subject is such a third rail in American politics that even a PC bashing behemoth like Trump won’t touch the issue. If elected, Trump would rebuild the military, but I don’t believe he has the knowledge nor will he have any generals with the stones to tell him to amend this debacle. If Trump utilizes the same school of Pentagon jellyfish trolling the hallways of the E-Ring, it’s game, set and match bad guys.

And, of course if Madame Secretary is elected it really is End of Times, not only for the military, but for the nation itself.

Nope, it will take a colossal military disaster for this fiasco to end once and for all. Colossal military disaster defined as Putin’s Boys leaving the wreckage of the New US Army on the Ukrainian steppes; M1 tanks, red high heels and breast milk coolers. Or, the Chinese leaving a trail of tampons, mascara, lipstick and dead coed Marines throughout the tiny atolls of the South China Sea.

The true victims of this impending disaster are America’s young women in uniform. Well over ninety percent of women in the US military want nothing to do with ground combat, the combat arms and special operations. They are happy serving their country in the hundreds and hundreds of different jobs open to them. They know more than anyone what they are physically capable of doing in the military. It is a small minority of self-serving women in the military and leftist civilians who are pushing this nightmare agenda down the throat of the military.

The US military is on a collision course to defeat, disaster and perhaps complete destruction in war. The forced integration of women in the combat arms is not a civil rights victory, but rather the single greatest disaster in US military history.

A Sailor’s Thoughts…

Some random and rambling thoughts accumulated from various quarters over the years. A bit of introspection from an “older” sailor. Pretty much ALL true…

A sailor will walk 10 miles in a freezing rain to get a beer but complain mightily about standing a 4 hour quarterdeck watch on a beautiful, balmy spring day.

A sailor will lie and cheat to get off the ship early and then will have no idea where he wants to go.

Sailors are territorial. They have their assigned spaces to clean and maintain. Woe betide the shipmate who tracks through a freshly swabbed deck.

Sailors constantly complain about the food on the mess decks while concurrently going back for second or third helpings.

Some sailors have taken literally the old t-shirt saying that they should “Join the Navy. Sail to distant ports. Catch embarrassing, exotic diseases.”

After a sea cruise, I realized how much I missed being at sea. We are now considering a Med cruise visiting some of my past favorite ports. Of course I’ll have to pony up better than $5,000 for the privilege. To think, Uncle Sam actually had to pay me to visit those same ports 50 years ago.

You can spend two years on a ship and never visit every nook and cranny or even every major space aboard. Yet, you can know all your shipmates.

Campari (Italian liqueur considered an aperitif) and soda taken in the warm Spanish sun is an excellent hangover remedy.

E5 is the almost perfect military pay grade. Too senior to catch the crap details, too junior to be blamed if things go awry.

Never be first, never be last and never volunteer for anything.

Almost every port has a “gut.” An area teeming with cheap bars, easy women and partiers. Kind of like Bourbon St., but with foreign currency.

If the Guardia Civil tell you to “Alto,” you’d best alto, right now. Same goes for the Carabinieri, gendarmes and other assorted police forces. You could easily find yourself in that port’s hoosegow. Or shot.

Contrary to popular belief, Chief Petty Officers do not walk on water. They walk just above it.

Sad but true, when visiting even the most exotic ports of call, some sailors only see the inside of the nearest pub.

Also under the category of sad but true, that lithe, sultry Mediterranean beauty you spent those wonderful three days with and have dreamed about ever since, is almost certainly a grandmother now and buying her clothes from Omar the Tent maker.

A sailor can, and will, sleep anywhere, anytime.

Do not eat Mafunga, ever! ( An entree often served at college parties. Most often in the form of an erect penis served deep fried, sometimes even on a stick.)

Yes, it’s true, it does flow downhill.

In the traditional “crackerjack” uniform you were recognized as a member of United States Navy, no matter what port you were in. Damn all who want to eliminate or change that uniform.

The Marine dress blue uniform is, by far, the sharpest of all the armed forces.

Most sailors won’t disrespect a shipmate’s mother. On the other hand, it’s not entirely wise to tell them you have a good looking sister.

Sailors and Marines will generally fight one another, and fight together against all comers.

If you can at all help it, never tell anyone that you are seasick.

Check the rear dungaree pockets of a sailor. Right pocket a wallet. Left pocket a book.

The guys who seemed to get away with doing the least, always seemed to be first in the pay line and the chow line.

General Quarters drills and the need to evacuate one’s bowels often seem to coincide.

Speaking of which, when the need arises, the nearest head is always the one which is secured for cleaning.

Three people you never screw with: the doc, the paymaster and the ship’s barber.

In the summer, all deck seamen wanted to be signalmen. In the winter they wanted to be radarmen.

Do snipes ever get the grease and oil off their hands?

Never play a drinking game which involves the loser paying for all the drinks.

There are only two good ships: the one you came from and the one you’re going to.

Whites, coming from the cleaners, clean, pressed and starched, last that way about 30 microseconds after donning them. The Navy dress white uniform is a natural dirt magnet.

Sweat pumps operate in direct proportion to the seniority of the official visiting.

Skill, daring and science will always win out over horseshit, superstition and luck.

We train in peace so that in time of war the greater damage will be upon our enemies and not upon ourselves.

“Pride and professionalism” trumps “Fun and zest” any day.

The shrill call of a bosun’s pipe still puts a chill down my spine.

Three biggest lies in the Navy: We’re happy to be here; this is not an inspection; we’re here to help.

Everything goes in the log.

Rule 1: The Captain is always right. Rule 2: When in doubt refer to Rule 1.

A wet napkin under your tray keeps the tray from sliding on the mess deck table in rough seas, keeping at least one hand free to hold on to your beverage.

Never walk between the projector and the movie screen after the flick has started.

A guy who doesn’t share a care package from home is no shipmate.

When transiting the ocean, the ship’s chronometer is always advanced at 0200 which makes for a short night. When going in the opposite direction, the chronometer is retarded at 1400 which extends the work day.

If I had to do it all over again, I would. Twice.

When I sleep, I often dream I am back at sea.

Good shipmates are friends forever

When asked what I did to make life worthwhile in my lifetime….I can respond with a great deal of pride and satisfaction, “I served a career in the United States Navy.”

h/t JP

Politics…

This ‘might’ not be a bad idea… 🙂

A MESSAGE FROM THE QUEEN

To the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

In light of your failure to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except North Dakota, which she does not fancy).

Our new Prime Minister, who will replace David Cameron, will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded.  A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

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1. The letter ‘U’ will be reinstated in words such as ‘colour,’ ‘favour,’ ‘labour’ and ‘neighbour.’  Likewise, you will learn to spell ‘doughnut’ without skipping half the letters, and the suffix ‘-ize’ will be replaced by the suffix ‘-ise.’  Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels.  (look up ‘vocabulary’).

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2. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as ”like’ and ‘you know’ is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as U.S. English.  We will let Microsoft know on your behalf.  The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take into account the reinstated letter ‘u” and the elimination of ‘-ize.’

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3.  July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.

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4.  You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists.  The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you’re not quite ready to be independent.  Guns should only be used for shooting grouse.   If you can’t sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you’re not ready to shoot grouse. Nope, since we don’t have grouse…

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5.  Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. Although a permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public. Umm… Scratch that one too…

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6.  All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left side with immediate effect.  At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables.  Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

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7.  The former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline) of roughly $10/US gallon.  Get used to it.

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8.  You will learn to make real chips.  Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.

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9.  The cold, tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all.  Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager.  South African beer is also acceptable, as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer.  They are also part of the British Commonwealth – see what it did for them. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat’s Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

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10.  Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys.  Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters.  Watching Andie Macdowell attempt English dialect in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one’s ears removed with a cheese grater.

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11.  You will cease playing American football.  There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies).

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12.  Further, you will stop playing baseball.  It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America.  Since only 2.1% of you are aware there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable.  You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries.

——————–
13.  You must tell us who killed JFK.  It’s been driving us mad.

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14.  An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty’s Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).

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15.  Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 p.m. with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season.

God Save the Queen!