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The Lions' Pride

Black shoes, basic blues. No names, all game

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The Lions' Pride

Black shoes, basic blues. No names, all game

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NOVEMBER REMEMBERED - One Year Anniversary Post

  • In what Twilight Zone is it possible for 4 good intelligent men to conspire to cover up McQueary's slapping sounds to avoid another DPW inquiry due to a fear of bad publicity? Evidently the media and Louis Freeh are dumb enough to buy this nonsense. Is anyone reading this able to explain the "reasoning" that says they wanted to avoid bad publicity when in 1998 - which the prosecution and Freeh says "they followed closely" - the DPW inquiry resulted in no publicity at all? The BoT buys this nonsense? ARE THEY CRAZY OR STUPID?

    My election day and anniversary post. Hope you find it interesting

  • Great job with the Remember, remember poem alteration!

    The good news is: Truth always comes out. May take time. In the meantime, I believe the words of Rudyard Kipling's poem "If" offers some solace to those maligned by Kelly & Corbett. In particular, I think of JoePa when I read these words:

    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too:
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
    Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
    If you can dream—-and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think—-and not make thoughts your aim,
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same:.
    If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;
    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
    And never breathe a word about your loss:
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kings—-nor lose the common touch,
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much:
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
    And—-which is more—-you’ll be a Man, my son!