Which is Worst? A RINO Or A DINO?
Ah, the majestic creatures of Washington D.C. — where the elephants sprout rhino horns, the donkeys grow dinosaur tails, and the only thing bipartisan is the finger-pointing.
The RINOs (Republicans In Name Only) and DINOs (Democrats In Name Only) are circling the Capitol dome like it’s feeding time at the world’s most expensive zoo. In front of the cameras, the big beasts growl and posture. But on main street, the frustrated voters are losing it:“DARN RINOs!” “DARN DINOs!”
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While the rest of his party is having a full meltdown over anything Trump-related (they call it “Trump Derangement Syndrome” these days), Fetterman’s out there dropping truth bombs: Blasting the “rot” of anti-Israel extremism in his party, supporting strong action against Iran, pushing bipartisan fixes, and basically admitting the Democrats are governed more by pure TDS than by any coherent agenda........
I will have less of a presence on The Torrid Tribe Community. We have very little activity here. This is a sign to me that members have found other social media resources that they are spending more time in. I am happy to see less censorship on social media in general. I started The Torrid Tribe 4 years ago when we were in a state of censorship and lockdowns. It was a difficult time and this was a haven and sanctuary for so many.
I will be lightly posting things here to give you all content to see. This community will always be open to everyone and will resurrect to its full capacity if subscribers show they want it fully operational again with full time administration.
Thank you for being a part of this community. Sending each of you hugs.
K-
Creator of The Torrid Tribe
Passion is the vibe that I want to bring to this community. I want to enjoy your passion for whatever it is you are into. Let's share what we learn - and learn what each other shares. Foodies unite. I love to cook and share recipes. I will regularly post pictures and recipes are available upon request. I would enjoy discussing your past, present and future journeys. Nature is God and Mother Earth's exquisite gift to us. Share a picture and we will enjoy the beauty through your eyes. Let's get deep and consensual with great subjective matter. This is a non judgemental safe place to let everything hang out.
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Thank you and hugs.
Torri
On Christmas Eve, 1975, Dan Fogelberg's mother ran out of whipping cream for her Irish coffee.
It was the smallest errand imaginable. Dan offered to go. He drove through the snow to the Convenient Food Mart on Abington Hill, one of the only stores still open in Peoria, Illinois, on Christmas Eve, walked through the door, turned down the frozen foods aisle, and stopped.
Standing right in front of him was the girl he'd loved in high school.
Dan Fogelberg was born in Peoria in 1951, the youngest of three sons. His father Lawrence was a high school band director, the kind of man who fills a room with music before anyone even notices it's happening. Dan inherited that gift early. He taught himself guitar and piano as a kid, formed his first band at fourteen, and left home for Colorado and California in his early twenties, slowly building the career he'd always been certain was waiting for him.
Before any of that, there was Woodruff High School. And Jill Anderson.
They dated through high school, class of 1969, driving back-country roads ...
