viet-namMy name is unimportant here compared to that of Joe Biden as I am just one of the millions upon millions of Americans witnessing the destruction of our way of life every day. Joe Biden was born November 20, 1942; I was born roughly 8 months later. From birth to this day in time there has been a vast difference between his life and mine. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and destined to attend prestigious schools and spend his entire life in politics.

My life started out very similar to all the other children I knew in my childhood.

My very first school was a square red brick building with a green asphalt shingle peaked hip roof. You had to ascend approximately 8 steps which were surrounded by brick walls on each side up to the front doors. There were large white double doors in the front and back of the building. Inside the building between those doors was a hallway that divided the building in half. The hall was approximately 15′ across; the floor of the hall and the large rooms on each side of the hall had wooden floors that were heavily oiled to hold down dust and help preserve the wood.

Down the sides of each wall running their full length, were two rows of coat hooks. Below the hooks was a shelf at the bottom about 18″ from the floor where rows of brown bags could be seen each school day These brown paper bags held the lunches that we brought to school each day as there was no lunchroom. Each brown paper bag had a name scribbled on it to identify who it belonged to. The contents of those brown paper bags usually consisted of sandwiches of white bread, mayonnaise, and bologna or spam and maybe a boiled egg and hopefully an apple. Underneath the shelf was a space for setting galoshes (rubber boots to keep feet dry when it rained or snowed).

At both ends of each wall was a doorway leading into the classrooms. As you came in the front door, the room on the left was known as the little room (elementary grades first through fourth and one teacher to teach them all). The room on the right was, yep, you guessed it, was the big room. the fifth through the eighth grades and again only one teacher to teach them all.

On the right-hand side of the front entrance right beside the brick walls guarding the steps there was a large cast-iron bell hung high and nestled about 15′ from the ground on the top of a large, 4 legged structure. That was the school bell and it was a great honor to be the child who was allowed to ring that bell for the beginning of school and to call in the children from recess.

Sounded like a simple life right and it was as far as we as children knew, but America was still reeling from WWII and times were very different for our parents. However, everything comes to an end and so did my simple country life. Starting at age nine until I graduated High School 9 years later, I was forced to change schools a total of 12 times. I changed schools 4 different times during the second grade. Needless to say, I failed the second grade. After nine years of being moved from place to place, I graduated High School, one of 28 seniors, from a rural High School.

I had gone to two different High Schools during that time. At my first High School, I played football as a wide receiver (and I was good if I do say so my self, I was fast),  I also did extremely well on the High School swimming team. At my second and last High School to attend, I played basketball. I did all right but basketball was just not my cup of tea, however, now baseball was a different story.

Completely and absolutely by accident, I managed to get to play on a country little league baseball team when I was 11 going on 12, and for me, that was the cat’s meow. My catcher was a short heavy set little boy whose last name was Watson (don’t remember if I ever even knew his first name. I didn’t know him personally as he lived and went to school 12 miles from me which at that day and time of dirt roads was quite some distance. He was a very good catcher and could throw a runner out at second base with ease.  As for myself, my position, I was the pitcher and I excelled beyond anyone’s expectations. Watson and I became good friends that summer as long as I wasn’t on the pitcher’s mound.

I could throw my fastball so hard that after only a few pitches, Watson’s hand would be bright red and beginning to become swollen. It didn’t take long before he finally resorted to wrapping a kitchen dish sponge in a bathroom facecloth in an effort to be able to stay in the game. Even then, by the time a game was over, his hand would still be red and somewhat swollen anyway. All the other teams feared facing me at the mound and my team excelled because of it. My best game? I was still eleven years old when I pitched a straight-up no-hitter. As a little league game is only 6 endings, that means I struck out 18 batters to win the game.

As I mentioned prior, baseball “was my cup of tea”.

At my second High School in my sophomore, junior, and senior years, baseball was a great part of my school life, I lived for it. Starting with my sophomore year, I pitched a few no-hitters, my junior year saw a great increase in successful no-hitters, and High School was finally capped off by a tremendous senior year with more no-hitters than I had ever pitched.

Our baseball coach told me that when he was scheduling games that would be played my senior year, one school that I had completely skunked the year before with an absolute no-hitter (meaning not the first batter even tipped the ball let alone fouling one), refused to play us again if I was pitching. What a great compliment that was even though I’m sure it wasn’t meant as one.

And life goes on! Before I knew it, my senior year was over and life as I had known it was about to make a serious turn. I had volunteered to join the military two weeks before I graduated High School and I left for boot camp two weeks after graduation. It would be the first time I had ever been on my on away from home.

I left behind everything that I had ever known including a High School Sweetheart that I was absolutely crazy about and had been dating for a year and a half. I had hoped we would get married, but that was never to be. Life is something that happens while you are planning what you are going to do with your life and is seems there is always one that loves the other the most.

That year was 1962. I voluntarily gave the American Military over 4 years of my life and lost everything I cherished in the process. If you would be interested in a full accounting of my life; why I attended so many schools and why I elected to join the military instead of going to college, REGISTER HERE, and I will email you when I upload it to the net.

Now before I go any further, I know there will be those of you who say I am jealous and envious of the fact that Joe Biden was born rich and privileged and I wasn’t. That couldn’t be further from the truth. The problem I have with Joe Biden is the fact that he had everything handed to him on a silver platter and didn’t do anything worthwhile with it. Joe Biden still managed to go through his entire life without ever giving back anything in return for all that he had in addition to what the American people gave him. The ‘ole saying goes:-


Read on the see if you come up with the same conclusion.

Here’s the point of this article. It concerns Joe Biden’s multiple deferments to keep from being drafted into military service during the Vietnam War. As I stated above, I played football, basketball, baseball, and was a member of a High School swim team.

In “Promises to Keep,” a memoir Joe Biden published and which became an instant bestseller after he was tapped as Obama’s running mate,

Joe Biden lifeguardJoe Biden recounts a very active childhood doing such things as working as a lifeguard. I would know something about the strenuous training it takes to be a good swimmer and the even more strenuous training, in and out of the water, to become a lifeguard. He also touted his football exploits in high school.

There again, football! Talk about strenuous physical training, bangs, bruises, exercising, running lap after lap around a football field before and after practice; been there, done that. Both swimming and playing football takes strenuous physical training and huge lung capacity. If you can’t breathe, you can’t play! Anyone of you out there who has ever participated in either or both of these sports knows exactly what I am talking about, right.



As a result of a physical exam on April 5, 1968, Joe Biden was classified 1-Y and disqualified from service because of:


said David Wade, a campaign spokesman.

In his book, “Promises to Keep,” Joe Biden never mentions his asthma. But he does joyfully recounts a very active childhood, working as a lifeguard and extraneous football exploits in high school.

According to records the Associated Press obtained from the National Archives, Biden registered Feb. 15, 1961, with the Selective Service, when he was an 18-year-old student at Archmere Academy in Wilmington, Del. The archives’ documents do not include any information about his classification nor any physical examination ever showing any physical problems of any kind. That, in this writer’s opinion, is absolutely amazing!

Documents provided by the Obama campaign indicate Joe Biden received a classification questionnaire in October 1963, when he was enrolled at the University of Delaware, and received his first 2-S student deferment a month later. Additional deferments were granted in roughly 12-month intervals, the last coming in January 1968.

Joe Biden has been in politics for the better part of 50 years, that’s half a century, and what can he claim to have actually done to better anything for the American people?

Joe Biden $20,000.00 per month rentalHe has amassed himself a fortune. He currently owns two homes in Delaware and currently rents a mansion in Washington, D.C. with an estimated monthly rent of $20,000.00 per month.

As for what can be found that he has done for the American people, OH, yea! Let us not forget that in 1983, Joe Biden voted to tax fifty percent (50%) of elderly American’s Social Security benefits. OH, yea! And then again in 1993 Joe Biden again voted to raise that same tax from fifty percent (50%) to eighty-five percent. (85%)!

Offhand, I can think of nothing else that he has done to help the American people! I can see no reason the American people need that kind of person in control of America and we sure don’t need that kind of help.

I for one, being seventy-seven (77) years old and depending on my Social Security benefits for survival do not need his kind of help for anything and neither does America!

I am taking the V.O.W. and I will be voting for President Trump.

Take the V.O.W. with me and “VOTE ONE WAY!”