Rolling Over in His Grave

My dad’s rolling over in his grave right now.

I ESP’d him yesterday to telecommunicate with him. We do that a lot.

A World War II veteran, he’s becoming increasingly disturbed about the fucktards kneeling during the playing of the National Anthem all across the country.

Two-and-a-Half

I was two-and-a-half years old when I met my father for the first time. Seems he was busy elsewhere. That elsewhere being France during World War II. Fighting against Adolph Hitler and his plan to dominate the world. Climbing into a B-29 super fortress almost every day and flying missions over Germany. Praying he wouldn’t get shot down by artillery fire before he came home to meet his baby boy.

Speaking about praying, I found the header picture above three nights ago. Explained what he was doing on Sundays. Helping distribute communion to soldiers in a Quonset hut outside Paris. He’s the one to the right of the priest. Wearing glasses.

Thank God he made it home safe and sound.

Almost instantly, we struck a bond that endured a lifetime. This site is called “Blame My Father” as a tribute to him because he:

Got me involved in sports at an early age.
Convinced me not to smoke.
Discouraged me from using drugs.
Made me walk the straight and narrow.

National Anthem

I remember going to a football game with him when I was ten. When the National Anthem started, he:

Removed his hat.
Looked at the flag.
Stood at attention
Placed his right hand over his heart.

But my behavior differed from his. I proceeded to giggle and talk and fool around with some kid in the stands.

Just that fast, I felt a hand on my shoulder. He swung me around and stuck his face in my face.

“Look at the flag. Stand at attention. Don’t move until it’s over. And don’t ever let me catch you behaving like that again.”

Sixty-three years passed since that scolding. To this day, every time I hear the National Anthem, I remove my hat, look at the flag, and stand at attention.

WW II Vets Insulted

Over the weekend, the Cornell School District played a football game. Somewhere near Pittsburgh. During the school-week leading up to the game, three female cheerleaders made it common knowledge around school that they’d be kneeling during the playing of the National Anthem.

Students knew it. Teachers knew it. School superintendent knew. In fact, that fucktard encouraged it. To exacerbate the situation, he contacted the local VFW and invited World War II vets to stand on the field during the Anthem. Knowing full well the kneeling cheerleaders would be in close proximity to the vets.

Pardon my French – but are you fucking shitting me?

Gotta believe this about that fucktard:

Liberal.
Democrat.
Never served in military.
Trying to make a name for himself.

Some of the vets wept openly when the insult played out.

A.D.

Getting back to my dad. He served as Athletic Director at Collingdale High School in the Philly suburbs for a couple decades. If he knew in advance about the intent of the three cheerleaders, he would’ve made sure it never happened. They would’ve been kicked off the squad and suspended from school. A parent-teacher conference would have been scheduled. It would’ve been made abundantly clear that such behavior would not be tolerated at Collingdale.

If he didn’t know in advance and the cheerleaders pulled a sneak attack, I envision the following scenario: