The only thing I take seriously is my Freedom. And Bacon.

Saturday, January 31, 2015

Significant Vs Superior

Very cold here around Philadelphia.
This is a story reported to me by a cop and is exactly why Democrats are maggots of America.
Last night, 1/30/15, the temperature dipped to single digits. A black homeless young man knocked on the door of home that had cars in the drive way with Obama stickers on them.
The homeless man asked if he could stay for the night.
The white lib called 911.
When the cop arrived, the white lib told the cop he would give money to the homeless guy, but he could not give him shelter.
The cop ended up driving the homeless guy to a shelter.
And the white lib never even bothered to give the homeless guy a dime.

So, you see, this Obama loving lib is eager to show he belongs to the group "look at me! I am righteous!"

But if he were righteous, he would honor the values he blatantly advertises, he would have offered the black homeless man a place to sleep, a hot meal; not only that, he would have gave the homeless man some hope that yea, our skin color may be different, but we will always help out a human down on their luck. That would have been significant (Philosophers used the word Significant when referring to virtue - goodness).

Instead, what this white liberal elites did was pull a superior card - he called 911 because there was a black homeless man standing on his stoop and so, the values the Democrats say they have are totally different than what they do (look at any liberal Hollywood Hypocrite). The homeless hater is typical representation of Democrats - do as I say, not as I do. Democrats long to be superior instead of significant. It is why Democrats have a hole in their soul - because they lack character, and when you lack character, you lack courage and confidence, and when you lack courage and confidence, you will lie, cheat, medicate, and fornicate, and do whatever it takes to soothe your unhappy soul.

This country is rapidly approaching decline because of people like White Upper Crusty Liberals who say one thing but act totally differently. It's called deception, hypocrisy, and it ruins the ability to trust. And once trust is gone, ya got nothing but empty souls and if the elite white intellects think they will survive and come out on top - hahahaha - they'll be the first to go at the hands of people who have been fighting for simple survival for years.

What we need is a character revolution - expose those who are all talk, no walk. Expose those who use propaganda not reason. Expose those would rather be superior than significant. Expose those who are completely un-fucking aware.

You know the saying "Silence is golden" ?? Well, I'll tell you who silence is 'golden' for - for those who are exploiting people, causes, and emotions.

We live in the most powerful time to be a 'nobody' in America. We have the ability to communicate - to make a difference via the internet. Obama and other exploiters are trying to shut that down, working with Comcast in an effort to make Comcast rich by censoring and monetizing the internet. However, Google, Reddit, Yahoo, AOL, Facebook, Youtube, are run by elite white rich people who SAY they stand for Democrat values, yet their actions (very few black people work in high rank positions, they do not abide by affirmative action, they pay little to no taxes, and they funnel much of their money to offshore accounts in order to avoid taxes).

But how do we revive the very foundations that built America? By OUR actions. By restoring character, confidence, and courage. By teaching people that extraordinary happiness and a significant life is possible through legendary character. By making sure our actions match our words. By striving to live honorably and honestly - by living for a purpose, not for pleasure (well, look, everything in moderation, including pleasure, but I can say with 100% conviction that the greatest pleasure you'll have in life will not come from sex or food (yep, not even bacon!) or drugs, but the greatest pleasure you'll have will be gleaned from contributing to life the gifts you were born with - and that could be as simple as being the best mom or sister in the world, to running a country, to making people laugh, to protecting people, to painting a work of art that moves people.

We take back America by exposing the bullshit, the hypocrites, the superior sanctimonious ball sacks who exist in this world not to be significant, but to be superior. You see, everyone has the ability to be significant. But in order to be superior, that means there must be someone below you.

Time to wake up America - it's never too late. I was a Real Housewives, Bravo Watching, Martini Drinking (er, blacking out), very confused girl (wait, everywhere I turn - movies, songs, books, magazines, are telling me - LIVE FOR THE MOMENT! Drink! Have fun! Eat! Politics is for losers, what does it matter anyway?). And then before I jumped on the Obama bandwagon, I FOR ONCE, started to THINK INDEPENDENTLY and did some research on him.
His record as a senator was crap. He was never there. He thrived on stirring up hate between the classes. He was friends with Bill Ayers and he went to a church for 20 years and listened to the Reverend Wright spew racists hate against whites, and Jews.
Yeah. No. Obama's speeches sure sounded good, but his actions went against everything he said.
And then I had a slow awakening. And it wasn't a soothing journey, I'm afraid. I faced the fact that I had screwed up most of my life because I lived in a cave of oblivion - believing I was aware, but actually, totally unaware. Andrew Breitbart launched me on my road to seeking out the truth...and then David Mamet, Arthur Herman, Dr. Brian Anse Patrick, Huxley, Albert H. Hobbs, Dinesh  D'Souza  and  Dr. Thomas Szasz, helped me connect the dots and woke me to some uncomfortable truths - and that was when I realized I was going in the right direction, because it was uncomfortable. It's so easy to find comfort, and comfort in moderation is great, but in order to grow, to have a significant life, it requires that we become 100% truthful with ourselves.

To briefly sum up what I've learned; Democrats are negative: they believe we were born evil and we can't be trusted with freedom.

And that in order to be truly happy - we need to be able to have the freedom to think and act independently - happiness comes in life from the striving to thrive to make a positive difference - happiness does not come from self gratification and salvation.

Do you want to be remembered as someone who strove to be significant? Or someone who proclaimed to be superior?

Advice to homeless black men - when you need help, don't knock the house with the Obama sticker.

Friday, January 23, 2015

Democrat Glozell's Cop Hate Rant

Yep. So if Glozell is so concerned about black people being killed, she oughta concentrate on the fact 8/10 men have a chance of being murdered by another black man in cities such as Detroit, Chicago, Baltimore, Philly, NYC. Of being killed by a cop? .025 chance of being killed by a cop. That was POINT .025 according to the Harvard Statistics on Justice.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

#FindTully Chris Tully

(What if Christopher Tully doesn't want to be found?)
UPDATE: On January 25, 2015, search and rescue crews pulled Chris Tully out of the river - according to police and autopsy reports, he had committed suicide.

After Tully's death, the family admitted on the morning of January 6th, Chris was on his was to Horsham Clinic for treatment. He had been awake for 48 hours.

I am sorry for Mr. Tully's choice not to continue his life - and while everyone remarks what a great man he was; he left 3 sons, a wife, and many students behind.

I worry that one possible reason - he ran away from his problems instead of facing them, will be lost along the way and give the misconception to the very students that exalted him that killing yourself is a suitable option.
If Mr. Tully was on a 'cocktail' of medications, I truly hope that the Tully family will use the money they are still asking for (and yet another fundraising site is asking for money saying Eddie Tully's fundraiser will not go to the wife nor sons) to prosecute the psychiatrists/doctors if they are responsible for misdiagnosing Tully - to publicly name them so other fathers don't leave children behind.

It sounds as if there are many missing parts of this story. The people that love him, of course, only want him to be remembered in a positive light, but I urge those who know him, to share the truth about this situation so that other people may learn and help someone they love before it is too late.

Ironically, the day Tully's body was found, my mother died. She had cancer and was in hospice. It
was a contrast that those who wish to live do not have that option, and those who have everything to live for, choose to die.  

As most people know, on January 6th, Christopher Tully escaped out of his parents car at they drove him to a *treatment facility (no-one is being honest about where exactly his parents were taking him) at 6:15 am in the morning.

He had his cell phone and it was turned off sometime around 11:30am on January 6th.

If anyone has followed the various reports, you'll see that it was reported Chris is bipolar and off his meds.

Then his brother, Eddie Tully, stated Chris had been on his meds. One of Chris's friends stated to me, "No one really knows if he was taking them or not, but we believe he was."

Various reports are circulating that Christopher Tully was newly diagnosed with Bi-Polar.

There has also been confusion as where he was living. The police report Philadelphia. Some media report Jamison. And some of his friends have reported that he lived in The Park at Westminster in Warrington with another person.

It sounds as if there was personal strife in his life, and I have to wonder if perhaps Mr. Tully simply wanted to escape and now that he has, it might be hard to return home since he has been labeled with a mental illness by well meaning friends and family who want to know that he is okay. I can see where this might be difficult. You don't want to disrespect his privacy, but you want to let the public know that bolting from cars in the wee hours of the morning is not something Tully has been known to do.

Often times, people confuse those suffering from true mental illness with people suffering from a crisis of character. People who have fought true mental illness are now devalued and demeaned due to those who use mental illness as an excuse for having affairs, drinking, drugs, etc.

 “The concept of disease is fast replacing the concept of responsibility. With increasing zeal Americans use and interpret the assertion "I am sick" as equivalent to the assertion "I am not responsible": Smokers say they are not responsible for smoking, drinkers that they are not responsible for drinking, gamblers that they are not responsible for gambling, and mothers who murder their infants that they are not responsible for killing. To prove their point — and to capitalize on their self-destructive and destructive behavior — smokers, drinkers, gamblers, and insanity acquitees are suing tobacco companies, liquor companies, gambling casinos, and physicians.” - Psychiatrist Thomas Szasz.

The Tully family has asked that (if) anyone is helping Chris Tully to remain in hiding to at least call a family member to let Chris's kids know their father is okay.

Please do not accuse the police of not doing their jobs - it seems Chris Tully has walked many different paths and they are investigating each one.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Unleaded Gas In The Diesel Ambulance

"Wanting something is not enough. You must hunger for it. Your motivation must be absolutely compelling in order to overcome the obstacles that will invariably come your way."-Les Brown

My first day on the job as an EMT in Quakertown (Medic 108) the Chief calls me in the office and says, “Why don’t you take the ambulance out and drive around the town and familiarize yourself with the streets.”
             “By myself?”
            “Is that a problem?”
            “Well. No.” I had really really wanted this job. I’d been working in an office, vomiting every morning before I drove to work because I hated it so much. When the call came to work for Medic 108 in Quakertown (three months after I’d put in my application), I felt I’d won the lottery.
            “Take 108-4. The keys are in the garage.”
            “Sure. Sure.” I start to turn around and he stops me.
            “You HAVE driven an ambulance before, right?”
            I’m facing the door. “Well, no." I confess. "But you never asked that when you interviewed me.”
He doesn’t respond so I turn around; his head is face down on a pile of papers on the desk, and he starts softly pounding his head on the desk. Finally,  he lifts his head just enough so he can speak to me, “Just take the rig and drive very carefully around town. Do you think you can handle that?”
            “Sure. Of course. Not a problem.”
            So off I go, driving around the small town, thinking how much better this is than sitting at a desk and watching the second hand tick away the most boring moments of my life. After awhile I feel very confident with the big rig, and pull into a super market parking lot to get a bottle of ice tea and a yogurt.
            As I try to squeeze between a van and a station wagon, I accidentally hit the station wagon.
            My father’s voice calmly speaks to me, “Park somewhere else, wait for the driver to come back to the car, and explain what happened.”
            So, I glance around to see who was watching. No one.
            I back up, move a few rows above the car and park where there are no cars. I walk to the station wagon and am totally relieved that there isn't a dent or scratch. God Bless strong, sturdy, old cars.
           Now I'm torn. Should I wait for the driver? No dents, no marks, no harm, right? 
           But I was taught to be honest - and what if someone saw the bump...what if it's on a camera? I'm sweating. This is my first day on the job. I quit an office job that I hated so much I would pull over and vomit on the way to work. I hated being confined. I hated how boring it was. This was the job I never thought I'd want growing up - but now that I had it, I could think of no place else I'd rather be. 
            I don’t want to lose this job.
            I bargain with myself, “I’ll go in, buy my lunch, and if I come back out and the car is still here, I’ll wait for the driver.”
            I turn my father’s voice off and walk into the grocery store with a pounding heart, sweating hands, and every person I see I try to figure out if they belong to the station wagon.
I stand in front of the dairy section for about ten minutes. The radio I brought in with me squawks…it’s my Chief.
            “You making out okay? Are you lost?”
            “No, I’m fine. Just getting lunch.”
            “Okay, stop at the gas station and fuel up before you come back."  ”
            “Sure, not a problem.”
            “Don’t crash!”
            Now I’m thinking he knows. Could someone have called the station to report me? He’s testing me to see if I’ll tell him about the accident. Maybe he’s thinking, “If she’s just honest with me, we’ll give her another chance.” But the radio goes silent.
            I grab a yogurt, even though I know I won’t be able to bring myself to eat anything, and a diet ice tea and head to the check out. Even though I could easily have looked out the front windows of the store to see if the station wagon is still in the parking lot, I keep my head down, staring at my two little items as they move along the black belt.
            Outside the sun blinds me and I hold my breath as I scan the parking lot.
            The station wagon is gone. But there the knot in my stomach grows larger because I know it could be that someone saw me and will call the station.
             Of course, then I stop by the station to fill the ambulance up with gas. 
             I barely make it half a mile on the road before the engine starts to sputter, choke, and just as I pull it to the side of the road, the ambulance seizes, sighs, and dies. 
            The Chief and mechanic show up. 
            No one had told me that the ambulances take Diesel gas. 
            I had used unleaded gas. 
            Just as I thought destiny had opened the door to EMS, I wondered perhaps if these two stupid mistakes on my first day were signs I wasn't meant for EMS...but I refused to believe that.
           In my gut, I knew I was in the right place. 
           Sometimes were given signs to tell us we're on the wrong path...and sometimes were given obstacles to test our determination, our faith, our confidence. 
      In the next 4 years, I'd have many obstacles - my faith in myself, in my choices tested many times, but I after that first day, I never doubted I was where I belonged. I spent the next 4 years of loving a job so much I never once bitched about getting up at 4:30 in the morning to be to work by 6.  4 years of fighting over protocols and patient treatment and who's turn it was to clean the bathroom. 4 years of late calls and bullshit calls and doctors with attitudes and nurses who were bitches.  
I loved every minute. 

 Excerpt from Girl Medic: Confession of Chaos and Calamity Behind the Sirens.

Monday, January 5, 2015

Load N Go Or Stay N Pray?

Load and Go or Stay and Pray?

If you’re in EMS – you know what I mean by load n go or stay n pray.
If you’re not in EMS – a brief explanation; some medics prefer to get out of the house as fast as possible and “work the patient up” while they patient is in the ambulance. Load and Go medics bring as little equipment into the house as possible. Load the patient onto the litter (stretcher) and then Go out the door. Asking questions, taking vitals, doing medic type stuff on the way to the hospital
Stay n pray medics would rather pitch a tent (thus we called them Campers), haul all the equipment into the house and make a mess.
I really hate messes.
Back in my early days, when I was an EMT at Medic 108, we had a part time medic who was notoriously a Camper.
He was a nice guy – but man, he turned the simplest call into a Lifetime Original Movie. Campers like to spread all their equipment on the floor. They like to ask the patient 5 million questions. They like to ask the family 5 million questions. They like to gather up all the medications littered throughout the house and put them in a brown bag to transport with the patient (as taught to do in medic class).  They do every thing by the book, line for line, word for word.
County dispatch would always check in with the EMS crew if, after 20 minutes, they heard nothing from the crew. And thus, when we worked with the Camper, county was always checking in on us.
“Medic 108, for the third time today, Status Check?”
One time, and I’m not proud of this (I’m lying, I totally am proud of it) – the Camping Medic, myself, and another EMT (back in those days, we ran 2 EMTs and 1 medic – good times!) were on a call at the local nursing home that was just a few blocks from the hospital.
I don’t remember exactly what the call was, but I do remember it was a class three patient – nothing serious.
Of course, the Camper was dragging his feet, and actually left the room to go to the records room to make copies of some paperwork.
I don’t even think there was a conversation about what my EMT partner and I  were going to do – eye contact was all that was needed as he and I wheeled out the patient to the rig, drove two minutes to the hospital, dropped the patient off, gave a report to the ER nurse, replaced the dirty sheets on the stretcher with clean ones, and we were loading the stretcher back into the rig when country radio called us: “108 – could you return back to the nursing home? Apparently you forgot your tent.”

More EMS stories available in the book Girl Medic: Confession of Chaos and Calamity Behind the Sirens. Available in ebook format on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.