Important missive from Gladys Flagg, Patriot:
They say courage is just another word for bravery, but on that fateful day, I learned the real meaning of courage is refusing to give in to the woke leftist mob.
On that fateful day, I was going to the store. A harmless ordinary woman (born that way, thank you) in the parking lot of Walmart, like so many others. But for me, that ordinary day was about to change into one I would never forget—for weeks.
A man I could barely see, because he was dressed in ‘thug black’ and of a similar complexion, jumped out right in front of my Escalade. All I was doing was pulling into a parking spot. It was a handicapped spot, which makes what happened even worse.
If I had in fact been disabled, he could have killed me. Luckily, I could have killed him. My bumper barely touched him—there wasn’t a smudge on it—but he didn’t take it well, even though he was at fault. He shouted:
“You dumb cr*cker-*ss b*tch!”
Now the woke left mob will tell you that speech is violence, which is why it must be suppressed. These same radical-left zealots will also hail that potty-mouthed man for hurling obscenities at a harmless woman.
This is when I found my own courage.
Rather than give in to fear, I stood up for America.
This thuggee no sooner hit the pavement than he jumped up very slowly and started to rant. He thought he could fool me into thinking he was entitled—entitlement is the name of the woke game, isn’t it?—to have the entire row of handicapped spots to himself. He didn’t know if I was a cripple or not! He just started raving.
I don’t speak Blackfrican American, so I didn’t catch most of what he was saying, but he was waving his cane around like a Zulu knobkerrie. It could easily have scratched the sparkle gold paint on my vehicle—or worse, killed me.
So I found my courage and hit the gas.
At last I could make out at least one part of his face, because his eyes went round and I could see the whites.
I ran him over, and I don’t think any true American would fault me for it.
Let’s just say the matter was settled by the authorities. This thug didn’t get away with it, this time. But next time? Who knows? Encouraged by the woke mob, emboldened by the taste of blood (I’m lucky it wasn’t mine!) he could easily have raped or killed me.
Instead, law enforcement officers, whom my son calls Patriotic Institutional Guardians, because that’s what they are, came rushing to my aid. The raving man beneath my Escalade was subdued before he could steal the catalytic converter.
If you’re reading this, you’re a patriotic American too.
You know that the woke leftist mob is using violent tactics to silence real Americans. It starts with language—like pronouns and obscenities—and escalates to physical savagery. You know Blacks are physically closer to gorillas, and they barely know how to contain their strength.
An Oriental would have died under the Escalade, but this man was barely even injured. It took six police officers to render him unconscious. And this was a man with cerebral palsy!
Imagine what he would have been capable of if he’d been in full possession of his dusky muscles. I’ll never stop thanking God he was a small, skinny specimen. Otherwise I might not be writing this today.
But such courage as I showed comes at a steep price.
The legal system is as woke as the educational system, and so I face paying his medical bills. This isthinly-veiled attempt by the woke legal system to silence conservative voices.
And unless I come up with sixty thousand dollars in the next thirty fateful days, I’m in real danger of being silenced for good.
The publisher of this disgusting left-wing radical filth-rag is also in need of money, because the woke mob has never met a payroll and has no idea how capitalism works.
I do.
So I’m asking you to choke back your vom, and send generous donations to this heinous website—in hopes that it will convince the radical left judge on my case that I am open-minded and caring. You can imagine the humiliation. My husband Carl can’t, but he’s not an imaginative man.
Courage is just another word for valor, pluck, and fortitude. So I’m going to stick my courage to the screwing place, as Waylon Shakespeare himself said, and ask you to donate generously to Counterpunch.
In conclusion, my fellow patriots, thank you for your attention to this fateful matter. And thanks in advance for your generosity.
Also, avoid the Walmart on La Placenta Avenue in Grub City, Idaho. They’ll let anybody shop there.
Gladys Flagg is a Proud American Patriot and pioneer-style homemaker and vlogger hailing from the Great State of Idaho.
