First, UNSUBSCRIBE instructions (and the link) are at the bottom of every email.

Also, if a clickable link doesn't work, check your browser address bar and remove the
extra space (or "%20") at the end of the address, and hit ENTER.

Our canned meats now have a YouTube video!

We sent a sample case to a Christian missionary in Haiti ... and he posted this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EEY2KngFyYE



Sign the petition to stop Cap and Trade in the Senate (if we lose this one, plan on AT LEAST
a 25% increase on the price of EVERYTHING you buy.  No joke!)

http://www.campaignforliberty.com/campaigns/hr2454petition.php




Hands Off My Healthcare - Like to sign the petition?

http://www.joinpatientsfirst.com/


Union bosses’ alarming new plans for our country: We are at a pivotal point in our nation’s history. If
we do not step up right now to confront the forced unionism power grabs threatening our economy and our
freedoms, the union bosses could become an unstoppable political force in remaking America. (Here's part
of the "change" you voted for, America!)

http://righttoworkfoundation.org/LDFVPMG1U.htm



The Question is: "Does the Second Amendment give individuals the right to bear arms?"
Vote at this link:

http://www.usatoday.com/news/quickquestion/2007/november/popup5895.htm

(97% say YES.  Let's see if they publish the results of this one!)



Swine Flu Vaccine: Will We Have A Choice? A YouTube video you should see (they're coming at us from all directions!):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SlDjDAFW1Ck (Thanks to subscriber Kurt J.)


We're now advertising on The Survivalist Blog. You *might* want to chime in....

http://thesurvivalistblog.blogspot.com


Clock is ticking on Iran nukes:

http://in.reuters.com/article/worldNews/idINIndia-40879020090707


A White House Dinner Parable:

Once upon a time, I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with the President. I am a
respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics.
There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind.
I live in a free country. There's nothing that the government can do to me if I've broken no laws. My
wealth was earned honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American President is an honor.

I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the President in a yellow dining room.
We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal was embossed on the
china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.

The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off
my plate, and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen.

"Sorry about that," said the President. "Andrew is very hungry."

"I don't appreciate..." I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me, I felt
immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner roll. "Of course," I concluded, and reached for my
glass. Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the
wine in a single gulp.

"And his brother Eric is very thirsty." said the President.

I didn't say anything. The President is testing my compassion, I thought. I will play along. I don't
want to seem unkind.

My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.

"Eric's children are also quite hungry."

With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled out from under me. I stood, brushing
myself off angrily, and watched as it was carried from the room.

"And their grandmother can't stand for long."

I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool.

Obviously, I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, to
find that it had been taken. I turned back to the President.

"Their grandfather doesn't like the cold."

I wanted to shout-- that was my coat! But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and
decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled. Then I felt my hip pocket
and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table. I
learned that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity
portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our home. Apparently, the waiters and their
families were moving in. The President hadn't moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I
lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face him.

"Andrew's whole family has made bad financial decisions. They haven't planned for retirement, and they
need a house. They recently defaulted on a subprime mortgage. I told them they could have your home.
They need it more than you do."

My hands were shaking. I felt faint. I stumbled back to the table and knelt on the floor. The President
cheerfully cut his meat, ate his steak and drank his wine. I lowered my eyes and stared at the small
grey circles on the tablecloth that were water drops.

"By the way," He added, "I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories. I'm firing
you as head of your business. I'll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind. There's a
whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can't come to you for jobs groveling like beggars."

I looked up. The President dropped his spoon into the empty ramekin which had been his creme brulee. He
drained the last drops of his wine. As the table was cleared, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his
chair. He stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if it were a ledge and I were a man hanging
over an abyss. I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had earned with a
lifetime of work, risk and struggle. Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had
I played and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board
between us.

What had I done wrong?

As if answering the unspoken thought, the President suddenly cocked his head, locked his empty eyes to
mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands.

"You should have stopped me at the dinner roll," he said. (Thanks to subscriber D. Johnson)



Lastly, I've gotten this a few times. If you haven't seen it, it's a good (and sobering) read:

Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men
who signed the Declaration of Independence?

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors,
and were tortured before they died.

Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.

Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army;
another had two sons captured.

Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or the
hardships of the Revolutionary War.

They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes,
and their sacred honor.  What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.
Eleven were merchants,
nine were farmers and large plantation owners;
men of means, well educated,
but they signed the Declaration of Independence
knowing full well that the penalty would be death if
they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and
trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the
British Navy. He sold his home and properties to
pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British
that he was forced to move his family almost constantly.
He served in the Congress without pay, and his family
was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him,
and poverty was his reward.

Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer,
Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that
the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson
home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General
George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed,
and Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed.
The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying.
Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill
were laid waste. For more than a year he lived in forests
and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his
children vanished.

So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and
silently thank these patriots. It's not much to ask for the price they paid.

Remember: Freedom is never free!

 - - - - -

Hopefully things will slow down enough so I won't need to
email every week.... Things are happening FAST!

Bruce
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