Monthly Archives: March 2025

Zelenskyy had multiple opportunities to shift the dynamic of this meeting but failed to seize them. As the discussion intensified, Trump asserted himself forcefully, understandably so, considering the history and stakes involved. Yet, he also dialed back the tension at key moments, opening the door for Zelenskyy to pivot. That chance went untaken.

Rather than engaging constructively, Zelenskyy sat with his arms folded, projecting defiance. A simple acknowledgment like, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I deeply value your nation’s support and alliance. Let’s reset and work together,” could have transformed the entire interaction.

Vance was Vance: powerful, incisive, and unyielding. I’ve been in high-stakes negotiations for over 40 years myself; things get fiery when the pressure hits. The trick is staying composed and on point, even when pressing an advantage.

Another lesson is not to negotiate in front of clients; it forces antagonistic behavior. Do that behind closed doors. The result will be the same, but it doesn’t lock you in, forcing you to figure out a way to save face. The people of the U.S. and Ukraine were the clients here.

Some lose sight of the fact that Zelenskyy was there to ink a mineral deal yet chose to try to bully Trump for money and promises with the media present. There’s a time to do it, but not the time he decided, especially when recognizing his dependence on the ally.

In my estimation, Trump navigated this skillfully, exposing Zelenskyy’s abrasiveness and letting Zelenskyy reveal himself as a thug. Vance’s pointed question, “Have you said thank you once?” was brilliant.

The Ukrainian people are the real losers here, stuck with a faltering leader. Trapped between Zelenskyy and Putin, they’re weary of being under fire. Yet their government has stoked the very tensions fueling the conflict. Ukrainians will resist as long as Russian attacks persist, and those attacks will continue as long as Zelenskyy plays the warmongering grifter.

Given the leaders inability to do so, people would value Trump’s effort to curb the fighting between these two warring countries.

Democrats showed contempt during Trump’s address to Congress, refusing to stand for grieving families or brave individuals. They sat silent for the mother of Jocelyn Nungaray, a 12-year-old murdered by illegal immigrants, and for Laken Riley’s family, whose daughter met the same fate. They wouldn’t honor a young man whose father, a slain police officer, was admitted to West Point by Trump mid-speech—even the Joint Chiefs applauded, but not them.

They stayed seated for a 17-year-old North Carolina girl left paralyzed after a transgender player—biologically male—spiked a volleyball with such force into her face that it caused traumatic brain injury and partial paralysis.

They ignored Border Patrol Agent Roberto Ortiz, who took cartel bullets to save his partner; Republicans cheered, but Democrats didn’t budge. They wouldn’t even stand when Trump entered the chamber—unprecedented for an entire party.

Then there’s DJ Daniel, a 13-year-old brain cancer survivor. DJ, to me, became the face of the night. Being diagnosed at eight with five months to live didn’t alter his dream of becoming a police officer; he’s already an honorary in several departments.

Trump made him an honorary Secret Service agent, and Director Sean Curran gave him a badge. DJ’s hug with Curran moved the room to tears and earned a standing ovation—but only Republicans stood. Democrats sat, their hatred for Trump closing their eyes to a child’s courage.

Why dissect their motives? Sociopathatic?, Psychopathic? Plain spite? Rep. Green’s removal for indecorum was terrible, but worse was the image of Democrats sitting, hands idle, as a cancer-fighting, survivor boy was honored. Their refusal to applaud his bravery and love for law enforcement reveals their core: HATE! That’s what Americans saw.

I still have my Daisy No. 25 pump BB gun from around 1960. Back then, I walked around with a friend who had one. I thought it was pretty powerful. We could break bottles, shoot through real cans, and knock things off wires.

Got it for Christmas. My mom was against it, and my dad was okay with it. My mom may have been right to an extent. While I remember having a lot of fun with it, my friends and I did some nasty things with our BB guns.

When we got older, we had BB gun fights. It may sound harsh, but it was the late 1950s or early to mid-’60s and living in a rural area may have influenced our BB gun battles. I looked it up. It turns out it wasn’t unusual.

As seen in the ad, BB guns were marketed straight to youngsters as the ultimate toy. They were our ticket to our cowboy and war fantasies fueled by Wild West and WWII themes from TV screens to movie theaters.

Safety? Parental hovering? Things were different then. The kids didn’t overrule our parents, but much of our playtime was outdoors without parental supervision. We used our BB guns as tools for wild, imaginative adventures, often roping their pals into mock shootouts. Remember, too, that we didn’t have phones to carry around. We played real games that required imagination and movement. We did so much running and biking our average BMI was 12, but we weren’t starving.

I’ll go out on a limb here but ask someone who lived it. They’ll tell tales, some tall, of pinging BBs at tin cans, makeshift targets, and even each other, usually with little more than our naivety for protection.

Risky? You bet! We had a rule of no shots above the waist, but from running and jumping, there were errant shots. Welts were badges of honor, and I suppose a rogue shot might clip an eye every now and then, but back then, it barely made the news; no one was rushing to slap rules on it.

The reality is that I only knew of one kid who shot his eye out, but with a .22 rifle. It seems we liked going to the dump to shoot rats. That line from A Christmas Story, “You’ll shoot your eye out!” sums it up perfectly in the sense that we knew the danger, but it was too much fun to resist.