John Cerrone 🇺🇸

Trump saved Christmas 👀🎄🎅🏽🎁 🇺🇸

Right Wing: WE LOVE FREE SPEECH Candace gives her opinion…. Right Wing: NOT THAT FREE SPEECH Politics are cooked 💯

My name is Jack Miller, and on Saturday at ten o’clock I’ll be standing in my own driveway watching my life get sold by the piece. They call it an estate sale, but it feels more like a yard sale for a dead man who just hasn’t had the decency to lie down yet. I’m seventy-four. My boots are cracked, my flannel is soft from a thousand washings, and the Nebraska wind still smells the same as it did when I was six years old riding on my daddy’s shoulders to check the cows. This ground has had a Miller on it since 1924. My granddad turned the first sod with a team of mules. My dad kept it alive through the eighties when the bank tried to eat us. I thought I’d be the last one to leave it, but I figured I’d leave feet first in a pine box, not watching strangers load my combine onto a lowboy trailer headed for Kansas. The sign at the road doesn’t say Miller Farm anymore. It says ABSOLUTE AUCTION – NO RESERVES – EVERYTHING GOES. All week people have been poking around like crows in a cornfield. A woman in yoga pants held up Grandma’s butter churn and asked if it was “real” or “just for looks.” A guy with a man-bun tried to talk me down on the price of my hay rake because he only wanted the wheels to make a chandelier. Yesterday a young couple stopped at the old wooden gate my dad built the year I was born. The paint’s mostly gone, but you can still read MILLER in faded green letters. “Oh my gosh,” the wife said, snapping pictures. “This is perfect for our entryway. So rustic.” Rustic. That gate held back stampeding cattle the night lightning hit the barn. It’s got hoof marks and blood stains and a patch from the time I backed the pickup into it at sixteen. But sure, honey, hang it over your subway tile and call it rustic. I stood there with my coffee getting cold and didn’t say a word. It wasn’t one big thing that killed this place. It was a million little cuts. The elevator started paying thirty cents less a bushel because “the world market.” The seed corn went up forty dollars a bag because “research and development.” The fertilizer plant shut down, so now it comes from Morocco and costs twice what it did in 2010. The grocery store sells sweet corn flown in from Peru cheaper than I can grow it thirty miles away. Two years ago I had the prettiest stand of corn you ever saw. Ears filled clear to the tip. I ran the numbers and it would cost me more to harvest it than I’d get paid. So I fired up the shredder and turned a hundred and sixty acres of gold back into dirt. Sat in the tractor cab and cried like a baby while the stalks fell. My granddaughter Lily is sixteen. She helped me sticker everything with lot numbers last week. She stopped at the old John Deere and ran her hand across the seat worn smooth from three generations of Miller backsides. “Why sell it, Papaw?” “Nobody needs what it does anymore, darlin’. It’s made for growing food. The world don’t want food grown this way now. It wants food grown cheaper, farther away, by somebody else.” She didn’t get it. How could she? She’s never seen a grocery store shelf empty. She thinks food just appears. That’s the joke, really. Shelves are full, but the people who filled them are disappearing. Saturday they’ll sell the tractor, the tools, the gate, the butter churn. They’ll sell the kitchen table where my wife and I paid bills and held hands and raised two kids. Some of it will end up in landfills. Some will end up as “farmhouse décor” in houses that have never smelled silage or heard a rooster. I don’t hate the buyers. They’re just folks wanting a piece of something solid. I hate that the only piece they can still afford is the memory of it. When the last item is gone and the auctioneer says “Sold,” I’ll still be standing here. The barn will be empty. The fields will already belong to an investment group in Omaha that’s never felt this soil between their fingers.

You know ALL of the United States of America is about to fall when @FBIDirectorKash assigns tax payer security detail to his girlfriend @AlexisWilkins for mean tweets while @RealCandaceO has actual assassination threats both foreign and domestic and he just calls her a conspiracy theorist. Pray for this nation, while we still have one! 🇺🇸

Attention, READ and SHARE! 👇🏽

Who else is rockin’ 10 years here and zero name changes? Let’s see those info cards 🇺🇸

Whaaaat

I’m a business owner. Imagine I hired a group of people to help run my business. They lie to me about everything happening in my business. For all of its history. They make laws and bylaws that strip me of being able to act in my business. They begin to tax me on my business. And then tax my left over money everywhere I spend it. They put my business 38 TRILLION in debt. They begin to give my money to other foreign businesses. They figure out what other businesses are worth investing in to make themselves millionaires. Other employees in my business are figuring out that their coworkers are making bad deals and blackmail them in order to make their own bad deals. They make laws stating they don’t have to share information with me because I won’t know how to handle that information and call it “classified”. They let money donors who pay them to support my workers ideas but really to act on the donors behalf in order to further the money donors purpose. While the donors purpose makes me sick from their food I eat, and their medicine I take and the cost of that is my wellness or even my death. They begin to play the blame game saying it’s their coworkers fault this is happening. I ask their coworkers and they say it’s the other coworkers on the other side causing the issues. I begin to realize that my employees have separated into 2 teams and are now working for their own team and no longer as a team to work for me. I gave them a 6 figure income to run my business but they abuse their power I gave them to make millions of dollars with backdoor deals. While I’m struggling to house and feed my family. They took control of my food and my medicine and made themselves experts, even though most of them are obese and unhealthy themselves. Only to find out I’m sick from the food and medicine they gave me. When I asked why things are this way, they said I was being a conspiracy theorist. Now my kids go to school and my business got involved in our school and my business said we should teach your kids about being gay and that we should have a flag in the school that reminds kids they should be thinking of sexual preferences as part of learning. My kids grew up and my business said we should send your kids over to another country with guns and shoot other people and take their resources. And if anyone asks, just say you went there to help the losing country defend themselves so people don’t have to die. Now I’m old and can’t take care of myself. My kids died in war in another country so I’m alone. But all the food and meds I ate have numbed me into believing this is normal since I can’t physically do anything anyway and my grand kids will now grow up and just repeat what I did. My business name is The United States of America @realDonaldTrump

Wow. Bow down son.

My entire feed is Laura Loomer crying 🤣🤣🤣

I’m so happy to see Americans waking up to all the puppets in our government. Left and Right. The comments are gold! #AmericaONLY 🇺🇸

Interesting, it’s like Charlie started seeing everything this veteran was saying to him… m.youtube.com/watch?v=JGqwCf…

This! This is what a lot of us are thinking! Not a good look ❌

Panic posting isn’t a good look 🤦🏻‍♂️

This is the result of TREASON! WHY HAS THE UNITED STATES NOT ARRESTED FAUCI????? 🚩🚩🚩🚩

I’m crying 😂 @benshapiro what happened to facts, not feelings. You’re a crying liberal in disguise 😂😂😂😂😂. Debate @NickJFuentes or agree to move to Israel.

The comment section is gold 😂💀🇺🇸

Here’s Israel in a nutshell. Demonic

Good Morning to all the Patriots 🇺🇸 To all who have lied to us, may God have mercy on you 🙏🏽

Thanks for the advice…