Old Skool AKA Pimp
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Old Skool AKA Pimp
@comic423
Salesman, Genius ,All tweets are meant to be fun! Don’t get all hopped up.
Lawng Island 参加日 Kasım 2009
1.4K フォロー中438 フォロワー
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Chuck Schumer just openly admitted the plan…
Chuck Schumer says Democrats will reverse DOGE cuts if they win.
If Democrats take the House/Senate in 2026, they will ROLL BACK EVERY SINGLE DOGE CUT Trump puts in place — 100% of it.
No “compromise.” No “review.”
Just restore the waste. Restore the grift.
The Senate GOP has ONE job: GET TOUGH.
✅ Nuke the filibuster
✅ Lock the cuts into law
✅ Make it IMPOSSIBLE for Dems to undo it later
It’s official: A vote for Democrats, is a vote for waste, fraud, abuse, & theft of our tax dollars. Minneapolis on steroids. Nationwide fraud & money laundering.
They’re telling you exactly who they are.
Remember this in November.
Now Republicans need to act like it. 🇺🇸🔥
Thoughts......??👀
MAKE THIS GO VIRAL ON 𝕏. LET’S GO 👏
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🚨 BOMBSHELL EXPOSÉ: Robert F. Kennedy Jr. drops the ultimate truth bomb on the COVID era: "They had to destroy ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine… because if they had acknowledged that it was effective in anybody, the whole $200 billion vaccine enterprise would have collapsed."
Do you belive this?
✅Yes
❎No
What is your response to this......??👀
MAKE THIS GO VIRAL ON 𝕏. LET’S GO 👏
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“Mommy, I saw you jumping on daddy’s belly yesterday night," said Janie.
“Yes, we were trying to get rid of daddy’s big belly. I jump on him so all the air comes out," replied the mom.
"Oh" cried Janie. "I know why it isn’t working – the lady from across the street comes every time you go shopping and blows all the air back into him again.”
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My parents were married for 55 years. One morning, my mom was going downstairs to make dad breakfast, she had a heart attack and fell. My father picked her up as best he could and almost dragged her into the truck. At full speed he drove her to the hospital. When he arrived, unfortunately she was no longer with us.
During the funeral, my father did not speak; his gaze was lost. He hardly cried.
That night with his children they sat and shared memories. My father listened carefully. Suddenly he asked us to take him to the cemetery. "Dad!" we replied, "it's 11 at night, we can't go to the cemetery right now!"
He said, "Please don't argue with the man who just lost his wife of 55 years."
There was a moment of respectful silence, we didn't argue anymore. We went to the cemetery.
With a flashlight we reached her grave. My father sat down, prayed, and told his children: "It was 55 years... you know? No one can really talk about true love if haven't done life with a person." Then he paused and wiped his face and said, "She and I, we were together in the good and in the bad!" he continued. "We shared a lifetime of joys, struggles, hospital stays, grief, and love. We supported each other during pain, prayed together often, hugged one another each day, communicated regularly, and we forgave mistakes."
And then he paused and added, "Children, that's all gone and I'm happy tonight. Do you know why I'm happy? Because she left before me. She didn't have to go through the agony and pain of burying me, of being left alone after my departure. I will be the one to go through that, and I thank God for that. I love her so much that I wouldn't have liked her to suffer..."
When my father finished speaking, my brothers and I had tears streaming down our faces. We hugged him and he comforted us, "It's okay. We can go home. It's been a long day."
That night I understood what true love is. It is more than just romanticism and sex, it's two people who stand beside one another, who are committed to one another ... through all the good and bad that life throws at you.
Peace in your hearts. 💕 🙏

G-PA INDY@GPAIndiana
The Luckiest People on Earth 💕💕🙏
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.@HowieRose has made some incredible calls throughout his career, but none near his most important one - the one he still makes to his 36 y/o daughter every night just to say I love you & goodnight. Happy birthday to unanimous first ballot dad HOFer. I love you more than anything

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Four Old Men. Two Wheelchairs. One Beach. Alan Alda’s 90th Birthday
January 28, 2026.
Alan Alda turned 90.
His family planned a safe celebration at home.
Cake. Balloons. Grandkids.
Alan said no.
“I don’t want a party,” he said.
His daughter frowned.
“Dad… you’re turning ninety. This is a big deal.”
“I know,” Alan said.
“But I don’t want to celebrate here.”
“Then where?”
Alan didn’t hesitate.
“I want to go to the beach.”
The room went still.
“The beach?”
“Dad, you’re in a wheelchair.”
“You can barely stand.”
Alan smiled.
That smile.
The Hawkeye Pierce smile — the one that always meant something stubborn was coming.
“So?”
By that afternoon, he had already decided who was coming.
“The four of us,” he said.
“The last four.”
Gary Burghoff.
Jamie Farr.
Mike Farrell.
And himself.
The final survivors of the 4077th.
“No cameras. No interviews. No speeches,” Alan said.
“Just us.”
The phone calls began.
Gary answered first.
“Happy birthday, old man! Ninety!”
“Thanks. I need you to drive.”
“Drive where?”
“To the beach.”
A pause.
“Alan… you’re in a wheelchair.”
“So are facts. They don’t stop me either.”
Gary laughed.
That Radar laugh Alan had known for over fifty years.
“Fine. But I’m not pushing you through sand.”
“I’ll crawl if I have to.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m Hawkeye. Same thing.”
Jamie Farr was next.
“The beach?” Jamie said.
“I’m ninety-one and in a wheelchair.”
“Then we’ll have two wheelchairs at the beach.”
“Like a parade?”
“Like a victory lap.”
Jamie laughed until his voice cracked.
“You haven’t changed since 1972.”
“And you’re still Klinger.”
“Fine. I’m in.”
Mike Farrell sighed the moment he answered.
“Let me guess,” he said.
“You want me to push your wheelchair.”
“Yes.”
“I’m eighty-six. I use a cane.”
“BJ Hunnicutt once saved a man with dental floss,” Alan said.
“You’ll manage.”
Long pause.
“…Fine.”
January 28. 6:00 a.m.
Gary arrived in a rented van.
Two wheelchair spaces.
He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt.
At Alan’s house, his daughter hovered.
“Dad, are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“What if something happens?”
“Something is always about to happen at ninety,” Alan said.
“Might as well happen at the beach.”
Jamie was waiting outside his house.
Wheelchair. Sunglasses.
Hawaiian shirt.
“You coordinated outfits?” Gary asked.
“It’s tradition,” Jamie said.
“The 4077th always matched.”
Mike showed up next.
Also in a Hawaiian shirt.
Four old men.
One van.
Heading west.
On the drive, memories filled the air.
Harry driving too fast.
Larry bringing his own wine.
Radar making everyone cry.
Klinger never sleeping.
When the MASH* theme song came on, no one spoke.
After it ended, Alan said quietly,
“That song used to annoy me.”
“Now?”
“Now it just reminds me how lucky we were.”
At Malibu, reality hit.
Wheelchairs don’t work on sand.
Jamie grumbled.
Mike rubbed his back.
Alan stared at the ocean.
Gary disappeared.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned with two lifeguards and two beach wheelchairs.
One lifeguard whispered,
“My grandmother watched MASH* every night.”
It took time.
Transfers were slow.
Hands trembled.
Bones protested.
But they made it.
To the water.
Alan closed his eyes.
The sound of waves.
Salt in the air.
Sun on his face.
“I forgot what this felt like,” he said.
They talked about the ones who weren’t there.
McLean.
Wayne.
Larry.
Harry.
Bill.
David.
Loretta.
Jamie finally broke the silence.
“Let’s race.”
Two wheelchairs.
Two pushers.
One rock.
They raced.
They tied.
People on the beach stared.
A teenager asked, “What are those old guys doing?”
His mother said, “Living.”
As the sun set, Alan spoke.
“This might be the last time.”
No one argued.
“That’s why it matters,” he said.
“Because we know.”
He made a wish.
“One more year.”
“One more adventure.”
“Korea. Together.”
They promised.

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