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It is my sincere desire to provide readers of this site with the best unbiased information available, and a forum where it can be discussed openly, as our Founders intended. But it is not easy nor inexpensive to do so, especially when those who wish to prevent us from making the truth known, attack us without mercy on all fronts on a daily basis. So each time you visit the site, I would ask that you consider the value that you receive and have received from The Burning Platform and the community of which you are a vital part. I can't do it all alone, and I need your help and support to keep it alive. Please consider contributing an amount commensurate to the value that you receive from this site and community, or even by becoming a sustaining supporter through periodic contributions. [Burning Platform LLC - PO Box 1520 Kulpsville, PA 19443] or Paypal
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To donate via Stripe, click here.
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Use promo code ILMF2, and save up to 66% on all MyPillow purchases. (The Burning Platform benefits when you use this promo code.)
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One good EMP will take us all back there!
I’m all for it as long as the Chi Coms don’t rush in afterwards.
Understand that!!!!
I do hope so!
Amen!
Throwing lawn darts at each other, BB gun battles, big wheels, mini-bikes, putting around the mighty Ohio in a 12 foot john tub with 7 hp evinrude…
We had BB gun battles too. Everyone promised not to pump the gun more than 5 pumps. hehe, we cheated…
Give me the simple old fashioned way of life .
Playing Ringolario (New Jersey) also called Ringovario in New York.
In Jamesburg?
Must have been an Italian immigrant game that went way back. I ve heard from people who are now in their 80s from NYC.
In certain areas (Brooklyn as it happens) of the once great NYC the game was called Ringoleevio(123)
Thanks. Didn’t remember the name. A violent game of tackling and punching to get the say the word 3 times t o get the capture just the same.
The game was played all over New Jersey. North to South.
And all the priceless MLB baseball cards being chewed to shit on my bicycle spokes. Sigh.
Or tossing them trying to get the first “leaner” against the stoop and win all the cards…..
Floating down the Salt river with tubes tied together w/o life jackets, jumping off the cliffs by the bridge.
Little league … fireflies … serious thunderstorms with lots of lightning … shooting bows and arrows across 4 or 5 backyards … swimming at the old quarry … camping out in the backyard with buddies and sneaking off during the night for some mischief … fireworks … holiday picnics (Memorial Day, 4th of July, Labor Day) with extended family and friends …
Could anyone else have captured it better?
I only go back as far as the 50s. But I do remember that America when everything seemed somehow enchanted.
As I remember. we called it Liberty.
And we were all in favor of it … celebrated it … rejoiced over it … fought for it …
Except for the USS Liberty … and the truth that has been denied US …
I’d be sniffing those flowers too.
I hear what you’re saying but back then most men had a sense of honor; if for no other reason than men of my father’s generation (WWII vets) would have seen to it that any child molester would have been found dead by the side of a road in the early morning. No cameras back then. :>)
Mom can relate.
Box fort towns (refrigerator or other appliance). Rolling downhill in a clean(ish) 55 gallon drum.
City kids sure are weird.
I was in the middle of nowhere. 55 gallon drums in the country, rolling down a hill and not knowing where you were going to land is pure exhilaration. Now you would need a helmet, and pads, along with other protective gear.
Phhttt bubble wrap, masks and ten vaccines and you’d never see a 55 gal drum anywhere… way to dangerous. The feminization of the west is complete.
Good point, helmets and pads are so 2019.
Dad worked for the FAA. Some how I ended up with a couple of airplane nose cones to play with.
Driving my first (and only youth time) boyfriend’s used 70s green nova when I was 13 on country roads.
Did he kiss you?
Exactly as I remember in UK – it was just the same. We climbed trees, made rafts on the river and fought other gangs with pipe-guns and catapults using 1″staples. We made gas-bombs using first, cocoa tins then progressed to 35 gal oil drums.
We had fights using Dutch arrows and long bows and made defensive camps in targeted positions. We camped for days and lived off the land, trapping rabbits and raiding farmer’s fields.
I could go on but you get my drift. Health & Safety was far away thank God and no guns involved (strictly banned in UK).
Baseball games all day. Having chores to do(as long as they were done before the old man got home from work) Blacks didn’t worry about whites,and we never thought of them. The only time we heard the word nigger was during enie meanie mynee mow or those big brown nuts we ate during the holidays. Girls that got pregnant out of wedlock Went away. There weren’t 45 or more genders. If you ever had the balls to bring that shit to the old man…..He would have promptly kicked your ass up around your shoulders to clear up any confusion. Dinner was at 5,and you had better be there. A family was a father a mother and the kids. We had it so made.
Feeding ducks at the park, the Rodeo Days parade, the church festival at Portuguese Hall, friends dropping off lugs of oranges, stores closed on Sundays, musicals put on by the local junior college, the test pattern on TV, the telephone party line, looking to see whose car was driving down the street, walking to school, running barefoot across blacktop in the summer, and everywhere, quiet except for the sound of one of those new transistor radios.
Ours was a wild ride childhood. We knitted doileys and baked cakes in our Betty Crocker Easy Bake Oven. For really wild fun we were allowed to watch Howdy Doody and maybe a cartoon.
(record scratch) Nah… We were out the door 15 minutes after waking up, played in the local wrecking yard amidst the broken glass and twisted metal. Rode our bikes and had dirtball fights, shot arrows up in the air playing chicken, walked into town with 25 cents to see a matinee at 5 yr old with my brother who was 8 yr old. Came back home when the dinner bell was rung, literally. In winter it was digging snow caves/forts in the drifts. Traded bikes for snow mobiles because my pappy was the arctic cat dealer then, out of the service station he owned. Stayed outside for most of the day unless it was blowing hard. Times have changed. sadly not really for the better.
I remember the summers were great for me. We slept outside to escape the heat and to do our part to resist climate change by not using electricity. I remember eating delicious vegan impossible burgers and insect protein sausages with my commune mates by the warm glow of our simulated fire on the telescreen (real campfires were illegal, thank Satan- think of all the carbon they would have made!). I remember the sting of sunburns and the neighborhood youths righteously beating the white privilege out of me. I remember my first summer love, a wonderful group of older men who took me home with them after I participated in one of our vibrant mandatory youth drag shows. My friends and I dodging cartel gang gunfire while pretending to be transgender refugee Marvel superheroes – such fun times!
Today’s kids are missing out, with being confined to cages underground, and occasionally processed into soylent when we need to meet climate targets. I understand perfectly why we have this new, necessary and better system, but sometimes I still feel sorry the poor little ones missed out on the freedom of my youth.
That’s some funny shit.
Probably accurate though…
Thanks. Feel free to use it for whatever. Maybe it will get a few folks to wake up.
EC would have got a kick out of that one