Month: November 2015

Endorsed.

…sometimes you don’t.

U.S. ran out of ammo in attack on ISIS trucks

At a Pentagon news conference last Wednesday, reporters wanted to know why American forces did not take out more than 116 trucks. Why not all 300, or something close to that? A U.S. official said the American attackers simply ran out of ammunition.

“There were 300, I think, to begin with, and then you hit 116. Why didn’t you go back?” a reporter asked Operation Inherent Resolve spokesman Col. Steve Warren.

“Frankly, the aircraft expended 24 500-pound bombs, and all of their ammunition,” Warren answered. “So they — they shot everything they had and then they had to go home.”

Pitiful. Shameful. This is where the era of Preznit 3-Putt has gotten us. We will be years, if not generations, digging ourselves out of the hole he and his supporters [spit] have dug.

via Insty

You know you want to-

via Van der Leun

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a guiding hand, a superior being of some sort…

ISRAEL built a beautiful 9/11 Memorial out of Ground Zero wreckage. I did not know this.

I’m thinking they did a better job than we did.

Thanks, guys. Americas truest friends.

h/t Rantburg

History may not repeat itself, but it sometimes rhymes

Vs. Tulane today

…I had on a rather horrific Friday the 13th 

  
Great Britain is the father you never got along with, but with whom you eventually reconciled and discovered you had a lot in common with. 

France is the crazy uncle you love to whack on, but God help anyone else who does. Every family has one. 

Germany could have been the strict disciplinarian of the family, but the bad behavior of the 20th century put paid to that, and we’ve pretty much disowned him. 

Just sayin’.

by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.