Itazuke Revelation

It wasn’t until that day in 1968 that I took the train from JASDF airbase Itazuke - recently made available to the Cotton Pickers - a squadron of RF 100s from an American Airbase on Okinawa - where I was doing American intelligence things related to the Pueblo Crisis, to downtown Fukuoka that I understood how special America was.

And why I love her so much.

As I left the train downtown in the city I saw a crowd of locals.

It was a sea of people, all about the same height, and all with black hair.

I never really understood America until that moment.

donnie doesn’t get it.

Sadly, neither does America.

Japan doesn't either, but they are a great country led by a great leader.

Unlike us.

We have a Charleton, not a leader.

Duly elected.

How odd. 

The Japanese just don't know why they should look like downtown Portland, or Seattle or St. Louis or Anywhere USA.

And that's OK.

donnie doesn't want those places to look like Anywhere USA.

Either.

And that's not OK.

They already are a sea of heads with hair red, blond, green, purple, black brown and brindle.

And more.

Colors.

They are Americans.

And their variety of height boggles the mind.

They are already here, multi-generationally, or illegal,

But they all are making America.

Move.

Forward.

As such, I can't see them as anything.

But Americans.

If there is a god, they are a segment of God's people.

God Bless America.

And, please, God, give donnie insight.

So he can understand.

And become human.

Sent from my iPhone