by Michael Snyder, The Economic Collapse Blog: The left wants to get millions of activists into the streets during the months ahead, and just like last time around they are hoping that an incident in Minnesota will be the spark.  Meanwhile, ICE has initiated a “wartime recruitment” strategy and is planning to meet any protests head […]

Pig Causes 911 Call — And Steals Everyone’s Hearts | The Dodo

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Listen up, you broke-dick bastards, it’s your ol’ pal Gut-Buster Gallagher with the dumbest, horniest, most chaotic night I ever had between two legs and a bad decision.It was a scorcher in Reno, Nevada—heat so thick you could chew it. My ’82 Harley-Davidson Road King was sweatin’ chrome, I’d been ridin’ hard from Salt Lake with a boner that could crack walnuts, and the only relief in sight was the Mustang Ranch knockoff called “Desert Rose Ranch” on the outskirts. Sign out front read “All You Can Eat Special – $200” in peeling neon. Sounded like heaven to a man who’d been jerkin’ it to truck-stop calendars for three states.I park the hog, swagger in like I own the joint—leather vest open, belly hangin’ like a trophy, beard full of road dust. Place smells like cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, and broken dreams. Madam greets me: big-haired, big-titted, eyes like a hawk sizin’ up my wallet. “What’ll it be, big fella?” she purrs.I point to the lineup—five girls in lingerie that left nothin’ to imagination. Pick the one called “Cherry Bomb”—red hair, freckles everywhere, ass that could stop traffic on I-80. She leads me to a room with a heart-shaped bed, mirrors on the ceiling, and a vibe that says “we’ve seen worse.”Clothes hit the floor faster than a drunk at last call. She’s ridin’ me reverse cowgirl, bouncin’ like a jackhammer on Red Bull, screamin’ “Giddyup, cowboy!” I’m hollerin’ back, sweatin’ rivers, gut slappin’ her back like applause. We’re goin’ at it so hard the bedframe starts screamin’ louder than we are—wood crackin’, springs poppin’. Peak hits like a freight train: I roar, she squeals, and the whole damn room shakes. Then the fun stops.She hops off, lights a smoke, and holds out her hand. “Two-fifty, sugar. Cash only—no cards, no IOUs.”I pat my vest. Empty. Check my chaps pockets. Nothin’ but lint and a condom wrapper from last week. Wallet? Left it on the damn dresser back at the motel because “who needs money when you’re gettin’ laid?” Apparently me, you idiot.Cherry Bomb’s smile vanishes. “You shittin’ me?” She storms out butt-naked, yellin’ for the bouncer. Two minutes later, I’m surrounded: Madam, Cherry, a 300-pound Samoan security guy named Tiny (who ain’t), and three other working girls in various states of undress, all glarin’ like I just pissed in their Cheerios.Madam gets in my face. “You think you can fuck my girls for free, tubby? Pay up or Tiny’s gonna rearrange that pretty beard with his fists.”I try reasonin’. “Ladies, ladies—I’m good for it! My wallet’s ten minutes away. Let me ride out, grab it, come right back. Hell, I’ll throw in an extra hundred for the trouble! “Tiny cracks his knuckles. Sounds like gunshots. Cherry crosses her arms under her tits. “You came, you came hard, now you pay or we take it outta your hide.”Desperate times. I drop to one knee—gut hittin’ the floor like a sack of wet flour—and start beggin’. “Look, I’m a legend on the road! Gut-Buster Gallagher! I got stories that’ll make your pussies tingle for weeks!”Madam ain’t buyin’. “Start suckin’ dick for free then, legend.”That’s when all hell really breaks loose.Tiny grabs me by the vest. I swing—miss—hit a lamp instead. It crashes, sparks fly. Cherry shrieks, dives for cover. One girl throws a high heel—nails me in the forehead. Blood trickles. I roar, charge Tiny like a pissed-off buffalo. We crash through the door into the hallway, knockin’ over a fake palm tree and a tray of condoms. Girls scatter screamin’. Someone hits the fire alarm—sprinklers kick on, soakin’ everybody.I’m slippin’ and slidin’ in wet tile, naked except for boots, belly floppin’ like a beached whale. Tiny’s chasin’, Madam’s screamin’ about lawsuits, Cherry’s yellin’ “Get his fat ass!” I make it to the lobby, grab my vest off the floor, bolt outside buck-naked into the Nevada night.Fire trucks pull up. Cops show. I’m standin’ there, drippin’ water, blood, and shame, tryin’ to explain to a female trooper why I’m nude in a brothel parking lot with a half-chub and a knot on my head. They let me ride out after I promise to return with cash the next day (Tiny escorted me to the motel—ride of silence you could cut with a knife). Paid up triple the next mornin’, left a tip in the form of a signed photo of me and the hog, and never went back. Moral of the story? Always bring your wallet to the whorehouse, ’cause nothin’ kills a boner faster than a naked sprint through sprinklers with a 300-pound bouncer on your tail. Now buy me a round, ya cheap pricks—Gut-Buster’s still payin’ off that tab. Gut-Buster’s Whorehouse Wallet Fiasco YOU ‘LL NEVER GUESS WHO MADE THE LIST OF BRUTAL OUTLAW MOTORCYCLE CLUBS HARLEY DAVIDSON ISN’T JUST A BIKE IT’S A BELIEF Understanding Liability in Motorcycle Accidents The Arsonist Who Torched The Outlaws MC Clubhouse

Portland police chief Bob Day cried over having to admit the two illegal aliens shot by ICE were associated with Tren de Aragua (TdA), a vicious Venezuelan gang. He sees these two criminals as victims and said he is very aware of victim-blaming. The victim was not the gang members, as he believes. The victim […] The post Portlant Police Chief Sobs for Criminal Illegals Tied to TdA appeared first on www.independentsentinel.com.

When your father has one of the most recognizable voices in country music, people have expectations for your vocal abilities. Lukas Nelson knows this all too well. His father, 92-year-old Willie Nelson, has been performing for more than six decades. He’s the father of eight children, several of whom followed in their very famous dad’s footsteps. Lukas’ passion for music began at a very young age. According to his website, the 37-year-old has been on the move since he could walk. “He was raised in a beloved musical family and then, as a young adult, released a series of thrilling projects over 15 years of leading his own band Promise of the Real. Along the way, he came of age in the dives and diners of this country and his itinerant life showed him America as few others get to see it,” his bio explains. @lukasnelsonmusic Damned if I do, Damned if I don’t #TheLastWildRiver ♬ original sound – Lukas Nelson Lukas Nelson Recently Dropped New Music on TikTok That Fans Love Lukas Nelson posted a video playing the guitar and singing The Last Wild River. His voice has a bit of his father’s twang, but the style is all his own. Lukas clearly takes after his dad with his incredible guitar skills. Fans cheered Lukas Nelson on in the comment section. “Hey there Texas boy, you are absolutely awesome,” a fan wrote. Others noticed how similar Lukas Nelson sounded to Willie Nelson. “I love your dad and I’m liking your sound,” someone commented. “You are fantastic. your voice sounds so much like your dad’s. was at the outlaw concert in September at the xfinity center, Mansfield, MA! I started crying watching your dad sing. he is simply amazing!!” A fan agreed. Lukas thanked his fans for their love and support. “Thanks you all my lovely [fans], thank you for the love and support may God continue to bless you all,” he wrote. This story’s featured image is by Rick Kern/Getty Images for Shock Ink.