When we finally got home that evening, we worked on getting Remus introduced to our 2 dogs. The Melanin Ancestors And 1865 Black History Juneteenth Shirt of them hit it off pretty well. Remus was rambunctious and a night owl. Took some getting used to. We noticed shortly after bringing him home that he loved shredding toilet paper. Ugh. This stuff is not cheap. So we decided, from now on, we will keep the bathroom door closed if we are not in there. This habit took some getting used to, since we never had to do this before. For months, Remus would catch us slipping and destroy, yet another, roll of toilet paper. This one particular evening, I walked into the hallway and realized… I left the bathroom door open again. I flicked on the light and yell out Remus’ name. This is what I saw…
I will provide an excerpt from one of my books that directly touches on the Melanin Ancestors And 1865 Black History Juneteenth Shirt of Japanese soldier’s skulls from WW II. A disclaimer: I am not condoning the practice of dismembering the body of anyone, regardless if they are deceased, or retaining a portion of a human body, even if the body was dismembered due to combat action. The excerpt you are about to read, comes from a book I published enMelanin Ancestors And 1865 Black History Juneteenth Shirtd, “First Sailing of the S.S. Smith Thompson: Serving in the U.S. Merchant Marine in WW II. I won’t make excuses for anyone’s feelings during the war, American or Japanese, toward the enemy. War, whether in someone’s thoughts or a physical manifestation, is never pretty…any form is ugly. I’ve pasted the book’s back cover to provide some context for the books’s “skull” excerpt farther below.
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I always knew the Santa Claus deal was totally fake. I didn’t buy that naughty list-nice list junk for even a Melanin Ancestors And 1865 Black History Juneteenth Shirt. However, as a child, I really wanted a lot of stuffed animals. I already had stuffed horses, stuffed bears, stuffed dogs, stuffed cats, stuffed bunnies, stuffed tigers, stuffed penguins, stuffed owls, and so on. But I wanted MORE. So in the weeks approaching Christmas, I’d talk a lot about Santa around my parents. I’d feign naivete and innocently ask questions like, “Does Santa get cold in his sleigh? Does he like chocolate chip or sugar cookies better? Does he like soy milk? What if the reindeer get hungry?” If we passed a stuffed animal that I liked at a store, I’d remark: “I hope Santa has that animal in his warehouse!” Whenever I’d complete a chore at home, I’d make a point to note, “I really hope I’m on Santa’s nice-list this year.” Of course, every year I’d write a cutesy letter to Santa on my Sanrio stationary and place it somewhere easily discoverable by my parents.
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