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There are things I like, dislike or don’t care either way about. I think I like the latter the best. I have gone through different periods in my life as I would think everyone of us has, or eventually will. The latter I like the best came back to me when I was literally dying with heart failure. Enduring a massive heart attack for 2 days, Saturday morning to Monday afternoon, I couldn’t sleep anywhere but the easy chair I had used for a year since my back surgery. No, the bed was where I would normally sleep, but I couldn’t lie down because of the pain.

I had a heart attack 7 years before. A classic one with pain shooting down the arm. This one was just a pain in the chest and I remember moaning both nights interrupting any grasped sleep. I went to see the doctor on Monday morning thinking I had pneumonia because of my struggles with breathing. He wrote me a prescription for my congestion and sent me for a blood test and an ECG. I went to the hospital and 5 seconds of getting the ECG the lady giving it said she would be right back and came back with a wheelchair and so my saga started.

It was during this life event that I actually lived what I always said, “None of this will matter when you are lying in your death bed.” That was my philosophical approach to life to sort of force myself to see what really is important in life. Hence, I always chose to do what I was raised to believe what is right and morally correct, not always mind you, but tried as any self respecting human would.

Now here I lay, in my death bed. My wife at my side. All bitterness in me magically disappeared. I was living what I always said. Two main arteries blocked, one totally, the other 95%, the source of my pain. But there was an added twist, a bad heart valve and open heart surgery was the cure. Am I to die, I thought?

I made sure I said my peace with my wife of 10 short years and thought of everything in my life that I had done, or didn’t do. Funny thing, never once did I think of what was done to me. I went to parochial school growing up and had it impressed upon us that current events is history and we can see it, hear it, or read it, in the daily news. Consequently, I forced myself to become a news media junkie. Back then it was the nightly news, local and national and newspapers.

I vaguely remember hearing about the Harvey Milk shooting when it happened. I was in between being a news media hound and sowing my oats as they say, but the memory is there nonetheless.

My first interaction with homosexuals, to my knowledge and my best to date, came during this time period. They called me Charlie back then. Wasn’t even remotely close to my name, but a sort of friend who had a mental deficiency and possible couldn’t hear well, heard my last name and thought they called me Charlie and the rest is history. I had my first nom de plume.

I worked for these two guys who owned a neighborhood pizza shop and got hired to deliver pizzas in a van with a steam oven that kept the pizzas hot. They bought the building, had 1 tenant and 2 apartments. I rented the vacant one. Then they sold it to this guy who happened to be gay, or so the rumors said. I was 19 at the time and led a very sheltered life somewhat to this point. The new owner also bought the adjoining building. It was there, when he asked for my help that I was bold enough to ask him that foreboding question when we were later alone.

His answer, and I still firmly believe is the correct answer that should be given and also how one who is gay, transvestite (transgender), or whatever should carry themselves. He simply said, ‘Charlie, I don’t care what people say about me, or call me. I laugh all the way to the bank. I don’t bother anyone and I expect the same in return. He died 6 months later.

I didn’t see anyone from the government wanting to print a stamp in his honor and none was really expected. So why Harvey Milk? Why are they forcing this issue, shoving it in our faces? Why are they, as my gay friend said, bothering with us? Is Harvey Milk somehow special, so special that we will now be told stories of how he walked on water? Harvey Milk was just a man, no special talents, no special accomplishments, at least not nationally. So why a stamp?

It has been very apparent after obama was elected and Nancy PelNAZIosi, then Speaker, that she personally decided and cried about Harvey Milk being shot in front of her on national TV to shove this individual in our faces as she has said and done with redistributing the wealth in this nation – stealing is the normal word we used to use.

What bothers me is, I believe as many others do, that progressives are an immoral bunch of characters. Letting a woman choose what happens to her body, preventing discrimination against gays, or anyone else that thinks differently is one thing, but to justify shoving it in our face daily in every TV show and condition our acceptance of what we perceive as moral, is ludicrous at best.

There was a law in this country that forbade the US government from using propaganda to influence its citizens like the Nazi’s did to the German people in WWII. The Smith-Mundt Act of 1948 was amended in 2012 as an addendum to the passage of the NDDA. So now, just as the NSA, a foreign spy agency, can legally snoop on us, the government can now tell us the truth, as the government sees it anyway. It’s all legal, but still unconstitutional. The Supreme Court told the American people when they said Obamacare was legal: “We the People” are allowing this to continue, because we freely elected those making the laws to continue to do this to us.

Think about that the next time you vote for your favorite incumbent. Ask them at their next campaign rally if they trust you to make your own decisions? Can we no longer be trusted to know what is good for us, or do we need federal nannies to tell us?

Some may ask the federal government, “Please sir, may I have more.” I say, No More Milk For Me!