SUP, DIPFUCKS?!

I'm still here, bitches! Welcome to a slew of stories that are fucked up, paper thin, or made to enertain myself while I was too bored to find a old Halo Reach match.

So, oh readers of mine, strap yourselves in or dismount form this train.

War, war never changes...

War, war never changes... Hitler shaped a battered Germany into a economic & military super power, The Soviet Union made atomic bombs , Islamic exteremists attacked the US with their own planes. Humans have always fought for land, resources, slaves, and pure hope for domination. When our ancestors discovered the killing power of wood and rock, hence fourth we continued to evole, and our weapons did aswell. But war, war never changes.

To You Who Disrespect Our Brothers and Sisters In Arms

While I was listening to 'If I don't come back,' a commenter brought something to my eye. Here is what he said:

'My brother passed exactly one month ago today. I remember his words before he left. We were talking about all the rude people in this country. He said "They may be rude, but I swore to protect them. They may despise me, or even hate me, but my job is to protect you and them. They may say a lot of rude and uncalled for stuff, so they have the right to do that. I'm not ashamed of it. I'm glad what me and the rest of us are doing pays for the citizens of the greatest country in the world.'

Many hate the Marines and Army that stand in the way of our country falling.

Many kill the police that stops criminals from hurting us.

Many hate the Airforce that defends our skys from ISIS and other terrorists attacks.

Many hate the Coast Guard that keep our coast lines free.

Many hate the men and women that die to keep us safe.

A man one said. "If I don't come back, have a beer for me. Don't waste no tears on me."

History will not remember the brave soldiers who fight for us. The police that keep sinners away form our doorsteps.

I respect our brave men and women who stood up for us, and made sure those sent from the gates of Hell stay there.

I salute them and hope to join them.

Those of you who hate and kill them disgust me. You are heartless to the men and women who fight for you. You are the true problem.

Black or White, Christian or Jewish, European or American, drinker or not, I salute our armed brothers and sisters who fight for us.

I bet 97% of you will hate me and not repost, but those of you who do, add your name and I hope you have a happy life.

Go with the Marines... This is why... A large group of Taliban soldiers were moving down a road when hear a voice call form behind a sand due. "One Marine is better than ten Taliban."

The Taliban commander quickly sends 10 of his best soldiers over the dune whereupon a gun-battle breaks out and continues for a few minutes. Then silence.

The voice calls out. "One Marine is better than one hundred Taliban." Furious, the Taliban leader sends his next best 100 troops over the dune and instantly a huge gun fight commences. After 10 minutes of battle, again silence.

The voice calls out again "One Marine is better than one thousand Taliban." The enraged Taliban Commander muster one thousand fighters and sends them across the dune. Cannon, rocket, machine gun fire ring out as a huge battle is fought. Then silence.

Eventually one wounded Taliban fighter crawls back over the dune and with his dying words tells his commander, "Don't send any more men, it's a trap. There's actually two of them."

PLEASE READ.

I was walking around in a Target store, when I saw a cashier hand this little boy some money back.

The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old.

The cashier said, "I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll."

Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?''

The old lady replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.''

Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly.

The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.

Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.

"It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas. She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her."

I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry.

But he replied to me sadly. "No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there."

His eyes were so sad while saying this. "My sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.''

My heart nearly stopped.

The little boy looked up at me and said: "I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall."

Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me "I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me. I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister."

Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.

I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. "Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?''

"OK," he said, "I hope I do have enough." I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for

the doll and even some spare money.

The little boy said: "Thank you God for giving me enough money!"

Then he looked at me and added, "I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that

mommy could give it to my sister. He heard me!''

"I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.''

"My mommy loves white roses."

A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket.

I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind.

Then I remembered a local newspaper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.

The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young woman had passed away.

I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.

She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.

I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed forever.. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister

is still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.

Now you have 2 choices:

1) Repost this message.

2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart