@Light_Star

Plenty of testimonials here, Ron. And they are horrifying. Click on the wall page to read them from all over the US .covid19wallofmemories.org/#w… @covid_wall

Breaking: Iceland Votes NO to Joining European Union in Latest Blow to Globalist Elites thegatewaypundit.com/2026/08…

My White Privilege I turned 14 in 1979. I had one year to go before getting kicked out of my single parent "house." At the time, I lived with my mom in a seedy cockroach infested motel room. She told me she didn't have any money to give me, so I'd be on my own. This was her plan: 1) Take the California High School Proficiency Exam to get out of high school early (I was in 10th grade) 2) Apply to college and get financial aid to cover my expenses. 3) Live on my own, do what I want, enjoy life. I took the test. It was so easy that I would have been embarrassed to get less than a 100 when I was in the 3rd grade. I no longer had to go to school. After the test, I mentioned to another boy there, white like me, that I would be on my own in a few months. He invited me back to his place. It was another seedy apartment occupied by a couple of kids a little older than me. I could stay with them if I wanted, but I'd have to work for my keep. My impression was that whatever that was, it was illegal, and I left. I applied to Art Center College of Design, the most exclusive such college in the country. I was the youngest person they'd ever accepted. When I showed up for school, they took one look at me and said "you're too young. You have to be at least 17 to attend." Santa Barbara City College let me attend there. I lived with my mom in her new apartment, a furnished studio. I slept on the tiny sofa in the dining room seen in this photo of me at my drawing table. My sister had gone to live with our dad, who had just been located after an interaction with the police. SBCC gave me a stipend for financial aid. I used that to buy food for myself while my mom commuted to LA to work as a secretary. The money was enough for a diet of donuts and pop-tarts. I had a hard time walking up stairs because it made my heart pound. One student noticed and started feeding me. The same for one of the teachers. Then the moment came: I had to go. My mom woke me up at midnight, threw my things into a duffel bag, and put me on a Greyhound bus at 2 in the morning. On the other end, I was going to meet my father for the first time. I didn't finish high school. I didn't finish my studies at SBCC or anywhere else until decades later. I didn't have the money to do it, and as a caucasian, was ineligible for many forms of financial aid. Eventually, I earned my PhD from a prestigious university, but not because I was privileged in any way other than my own ability and work ethic.

Good morning, Generation Jones. ☕️ Yesterday’s conversation was so much fun that I woke up thinking about all the things only our generation would understand. High school was a blast then. We passed notes instead of texts. Had actual cruising spots. Memorized phone numbers. Listened to the radio waiting for our song to come on. And somehow survived without GPS, Google, or anyone knowing where we were 24/7. 🤣 We really did grow up in two completely different worlds, and I think that’s why so many of us connected yesterday. Now tell me yours. What’s something only Generation Jones understands?