The Honor of Counting Coup The bravest thing a Plains warrior could do was touch a living enemy and leave him standing. That act is what outsiders later called counting coup. The word is French. Fur traders and voyageurs on the northern Plains used coup, meaning a blow or strike, as a rough translation of a phrase already common among the tribes: to strike the enemy. Among the Oceti Sakowin (oh-CHAY-tee shah-KOH-ween) the honor was Tȟóka Kté (TOH-kah k’TAY). The stick used to deliver it was Čhaŋwápaha (chahn-WAH-pah-hah). Reciting the deed afterward was WaktóglakA (wahk-TOH-glah-kah). Other nations had their own words for the same family of acts. The French label stuck because it was short and travelers needed a single term. The practice itself was older than the word they gave it. It grew on the Great Plains as a precise language of honor and reached its classic form after horses arrived and raids became fast, personal, and fiercely competitive. Pedestrian warriors already prized the dangerous close approach. Late prehistoric rock art shows shield-bearing men striking or touching opponents who lack comparable arms. Oral traditions place the honor of striking an enemy deep in the time before these peoples lived as equestrian societies. The horse changed the scale and the theater. A man could close at a gallop, touch a living enemy with hand, bow, quirt, or slender stick, and peel away. The first touch on an uninjured opponent usually ranked highest. Second and third touches on the same man still counted. Stealing a horse picketed beside an enemy lodge often stood near the top as well. Killing mattered, but in many rankings it sat below the touch because the touch required you to put your body inside the enemy’s reach and come back. Lakota, Cheyenne, Crow, Blackfeet, Arapaho, Assiniboine (uh-SIN-uh-boin), Comanche, and Kiowa made this system central. A warrior’s standing, his right to speak, his place in a society, even his path toward leadership, rested on deeds the camp could hear recited and see marked: notches on a stick, eagle feathers worn at particular angles, painted shirts, later ledger drawings. The Crow who chased defeated Oglala and struck them with sticks instead of finishing them were not being merciful. They were announcing that those men were not worth the powder. Wooden Leg at the Little Bighorn counted coup with a whip on a fleeing soldier and took his carbine, then left him, because after the touch the kill felt cheap. The same measure of honor outlived the open Plains. Joseph Medicine Crow, a Crow scout with the U.S. Army in Europe during the Second World War, completed the four traditional Crow war deeds: he led a successful war party, took an enemy’s weapon, stole enemy horses, and touched a living German soldier without killing him. When he returned home, Crow elders recognized him as a war chief. The battlefield had changed. The standard had not. That exact combination of rules was uncommon beyond the Plains. The touch on a living enemy as the highest honor, the graded first-second-third claims on the same man, the coup stick, the public recitation, and the feather tallies formed one tightly fitted system. Pueblo nations fought from villages and in organized campaigns. Eastern Woodlands peoples valued captives, revenge, and different war honors. Northwest Coast, California, and Arctic societies measured prestige by other means. Analogues exist elsewhere in the world, because many warrior cultures reward the man who accepts more risk than the job strictly requires. Medieval knights sought first blood or the capture of a notable opponent. Some African and Pacific societies staged regulated fights that displayed courage without always aiming at slaughter. Samurai codes prized open approach over stealth. None of those systems is counting coup. They share a family resemblance: honor attached to proximity, self-command, and public witness rather than to body count alone. The practice was theirs, shaped by grass, horse, and the need to turn individual daring into social rank. It was brilliant, narrow, and local. That is why it still startles people who expect every Native nation to have lived by the same rules of war. Image: Charles M. Russell, Counting Coup (Medicine Whip), 1902, oil on canvas. Sid Richardson Museum, Fort Worth, Texas. The painting shows a running fight between Blood (Kainai) and Lakota warriors and was based on a story told to Russell by a Blood veteran. It is a later artist’s reconstruction of the honor, not a Native ledger drawing. The post is in response to request by @D_Rives_B

That's it for me today folks. Off to the weekend. My weekends are work away from work😳. This weekend it's off to the bees and harvesting the last of the honey.🐝 Yesterday would have been Papa Krieb's (the "Pistol packing pastor) 92nd birthday. What I know of cars, carpentry, machine-work, body work and painting came from him. Oh, and guns and reloading. I used to call him several times a week when I was working on an old Packard, Ford or even just to call and discuss world issues. Here's a photo of him and one of the moon over Kürten. Have a great weekend, and try to commit active acts of kindness. Me? Today, after work, I changed a starter in a Golf 1 in the driveway of an old friend whose wife of 40 years passed, and he not only needed the repairs, but someone to talk to.

Hay un detalle de Getsemaní que cambia por completo la forma de mirar la Pasión de Cristo. El nombre Getsemaní procede de Gath Shemanim, «prensa de aceite». Y allí, en un lugar cuyo propio nombre evoca una prensa, Jesús pasó la noche antes de entregar su vida. El aceite tenía un profundo significado bíblico: ungía a reyes, sacerdotes y profetas; servía para sanar; para purificar y para mantener encendidas las lámparas. Y Cristo reúne en sí todas esas imágenes. Es el Rey y Sacerdote ungido. Viene a sanar nuestras heridas. A purificarnos del pecado. Y se proclama a sí mismo la Luz del mundo. Pero hay algo todavía más impresionante. En Getsemaní, Jesús comienza a experimentar una angustia tan profunda que su sudor cae «como grandes gotas de sangre» (Lc 22,44). El que vino a sanar será herido. El que es la Luz entrará en la noche. El Rey será entregado. Y el Ungido será llevado a la Cruz. La imagen de la prensa se convierte en una poderosa metáfora de la Pasión: Cristo acepta ser llevado hasta el extremo por amor a nosotros. Getsemaní no fue simplemente el lugar donde Judas encontró a Jesús. Fue el lugar donde Cristo dijo sí al cáliz que iba a salvarnos. La salvación es gratuita para nosotros. Pero a Cristo le costó todo. ✝️🙏

I learned this week that many congressional seats are so close that just an additional FOUR votes per precinct could bring the Republican win. It is imperative my friends that we GAIN seats. I understand your frustration with our Congress but we must keep pushing them and more Congressmen like @realBrandonGill could make a huge difference. Plan to VOTE and take 3 people with you on Election Day‼️

Your theoretical opinions or beliefs or the slogans you repeat do not make you a good person. It’s how you treat your friends and family and how you treat others.

“That’s it. This is where I die. Right here, exactly where I’m standing now.” ​On the morning of October 7th, Lieutenant Colonel Or Ben Yehuda, Commander of the Caracal Battalion, looked up to see a nightmare unfolding: hundreds of terrorists charging over sand dunes in pickup trucks and motorcycles. Behind her stood just 12 of her fighters. Outnumbered, outgunned, and staring directly into the abyss. ​Most people would freeze. Or Ben Yehuda turned to her soldiers, looked death in the face, and smiled. ​“Come on, let’s tear them apart.” ​What followed was hours of pure, relentless valor. Firing until the barrels burned. Taking out trucks with anti-tank missiles. Killing a terrorist leaping at her from point-blank range with a split-second trigger pull. Guiding a lone tank with hand signals through thick smoke, coordinating rescue choppers under fire, and shielding the kibbutzim behind them with nothing but pure grit and unyielding willpower. ​When the smoke finally settled, she walked slowly down the line of fallen soldiers—angels and lions who gave everything so others could live—gently stroking their faces, whispering apologies, and softly closing their eyes. ​Between an overwhelming horde of terror and thousands of sleeping civilians stood twelve fighters led by a woman who refused to yield an inch of ground. ​Remember this face. Remember this name. Lieutenant Colonel Or Ben Yehuda. A warrior who looked into the dark and answered it with fire. ​. . . #Heroism #IronSwords #Caracal #TrueBravery #Inspiration #Leadership #Unbroken #HonorTheFallen

🚨 THAT’S A WRAP: President Trump and President Xi just said goodbye. The visit is over. Big things were talked. Big things were agreed. Now we wait to hear it from the President himself. Stay tuned with us. @TRUMP_TV_News If it weren’t for accounts like this, you wouldn’t see any of it. Legacy media is too busy opposing Trump to show what’s actually happening — and this was big. 🇺🇸🇨🇳

Hmm... so gas prices are high because we're FINALLY doing something about an asshole terrorist nation that we should've dealt with fifty years ago instead of kicking the can down the road-like all prior administrations-for our kids to deal with once Iran's got nukes... So obviously the solution to these temporarily high gas prices are to vote for the Ban Oil, ACAB/Defund the Police, Trans the Kids, Make Crime Legal, Lindsey is Innocent Because Mercury Was in Retrograde, Ban the Guns, Tax You To Death, Make Sidney Sweeny Wear a Burqa, Suck The Fun Out Of Everything, Mask Mandated Lesbian Bar, Let Your Whole Town Burn Down, Import All The Illegals Possible, Party. And none of this is to say that republicans are good. No. Most of them suck. But at least they aren't belligerent meddling assholes who want to destroy me and everything I love. If the republicans weren't such bum ass bums we wouldn't be having this discussion before mid terms, but I'll take corrupt bums over totalitarian control freak rainbow communism any day. America can't have nice things because too many of us are dumb.

I bought a used camera lens on eBay from Japan for eight dollars. Eight bucks. In Ohio, the cardboard box arrived on my porch. Inside, there was no printed receipt. No discount coupon. Sitting on top of the bubble wrap was a tiny origami crane, folded from floral chiyogami paper. Tucked under its wing was a note written in shaky pencil: "Thank you for finding my lens. Thirty years ago, I used this to take photos of my daughter's wedding. Now my eyes are failing. May this glass bring light and joy to your world, as it did to mine." I paid eight dollars for old glass. And a stranger across an ocean gave me their family's blessings. I held that paper crane and wept.

I never heard this story. More forgotten American history.

NESSUNO VIDE NULLA… MA QUANDO LA PELLICOLA FU SVILUPPATA, QUALCOSA ERA APPARSO. E DA QUEL MOMENTO, QUESTA FOTOGRAFIA HA FATTO PARLARE DI SÉ. Questa fotografia risale al 1932 ed è stata scattata durante la Santa Messa della prima celebrazione di Padre Palmatius Zilligen. Secondo la testimonianza tramandata insieme all'immagine, nessuno avrebbe visto nulla di particolare al momento dello scatto. Solo dopo lo sviluppo della pellicola, nella fotografia sarebbe comparsa la figura di Cristo Crocifisso, proprio nel momento in cui il sacerdote celebrava il Santo Sacrificio. Un’immagine che, per chi la osserva con gli occhi della fede, richiama una verità profondissima: durante la consacrazione, ciò che gli occhi non possono vedere è il mistero della presenza reale di Gesù nell'Eucaristia. E alcuni particolari della figura colpiscono in modo particolare: la ferita alla spalla, i segni della Passione e il profondo squarcio nel fianco, che richiamano le sofferenze di Gesù sulla Croce. Ma c’è una domanda che rimane… Che cosa vide realmente quella pellicola? Una straordinaria coincidenza? Un’immagine da interpretare? Oppure qualcosa che, ancora oggi, invita a fermarsi davanti al mistero? La fotografia è stata tramandata per decenni. La sua storia è affascinante, ma proprio per questo merita di essere conosciuta e approfondita con attenzione. @paracleto4

FDA: We approve the sale of animal-free fungus-derived "dairy." Also FDA: We won't approve the sale of raw milk because it's dangerous. Milk that humans have been consuming for thousands of years is "dangerous" but a fungus-derived lab-grown "milk" isn't? Ya, I'll take my chances with what my ancestors drank. Thanks.

US Airforce Vietnam Vet John Hiemstra of Oreon sadly passed away September 25, 2022. May he Rest In Peace... We remember this Vietnam veteran who served when called and carried that war with him through the rest of his life. Thank You for the years he was given after he came home. Give him rest now, and give peace to those who loved him. Amen. 🙏🏻

Fantastic summary of Western Civilization. I could make a one year high school history just by expanding on each of the topics. I wonder if Elon Musk would underwrite the development of the curriculum and classroom materials and make it freely available.

PETERSON: When people read the history of nazi Germany, they always think they’d be Schindler. They never think they’d be the perpetrator. They think “I wouldn’t have done that.” Did you watch people during the pandemic??? ☠️

I held a bilateral meeting with the Prime Minister of the State of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, as part of my official visit to New York.

🚨#BREAKING Outrage is erupting after an 11-YEAR-OLD BOY was stopped by police, FINGERPRINTED, and ordered to court for riding his dirt bike to go FISHING... ...300 FEET FROM HIS OWN HOUSE!!! They TOWED HIS BIKE with a city WRECKER. An officer warned him he'd get a WARRANT if he didn't show up, he'll have to miss school for it. His name is Cade, he's 11 years old, a sixth grader in Oviedo, Florida. His dad helped him start a little summer business selling squirrel tables and Cade worked all summer long, he saved up $900 and he bought that bike himself. An 11-year-old entrepreneur, in 2026. We should be putting this kid on a FREAKING POSTER!!!! On Labor Day, Cade grabbed his fishing pole and rode toward the pond at Sweetwater Park, he was on the shoulder of the road, about 300 FEET from his house. Why not the sidewalk? His answer: "If I go on the sidewalk, I can only go 10mph, and also it's going to scare the pedestrians." An 11-year-old thinking about pedestrians' safety! Then, an Oviedo police officer pulled him over. Asked him for his license, his registration, his proof of insurance. THE KID IS ELEVEN. Then they fingerprinted him. Wrote him a citation with a mandatory court date and told this little boy, on camera, "You have to show up, OK? Or they're going to put out a warrant for you." Then they called in the city tow truck!!!!!! His dad's words: "They called in the city wrecker for this little, tiny electric bike and winched it on up there." Next Tuesday, Cade has to skip school to stand in front of a judge. Yes TECHNICALLY the police have a point under Florida law, but where was the common sense?!!!! Cade now says: "Now I'm kind of scared to ride my dirt bike." A Virginia mom got a criminal record for letting her son walk to a pond, two little girls in Pennsylvania got hauled into court over a broken swing, and now an 11-year-old in Florida gets printed for riding to go fishing. We are criminalizing childhood in this country. Even THE TOWN MAYOR called Cade a "good kid." She's right. ...and for the love of God, somebody give this kid his bike back. WE DO NOT HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS!!!!

Here is a sad update from Elsa’s dad, Kevin: We are heartbroken to share news about Elsa. This morning, she woke up with a drooping face and seemed confused. Adrienne took her to the children’s ER, where we were told that her leukemia has spread to her brain. The doctors said there is not much more they can do other than keep her comfortable. She received platelets today and is now back home with us, where she should be. Right now, we are focusing on loving her, keeping her comfortable, and cherishing every moment we have together. The doctors believe her time may be very short, possibly around a week. Please keep Elsa and our family in your thoughts and prayers. We are truly thankful for all the love and support you have shown us throughout this journey.

Rozrywana skóra. Trzask łamanych kości. Krew tryska strumieniami. Bestialskie bicie gumowymi pałkami i skórzanymi bykowcami przez 2 miesiące. Całe drobne ciało 15-letniej dziewczynki zmiażdżone od tortur. Na koniec sadystyczne połamanie obu rąk i nóg i strzał w tył głowy. Grażyna jednak nie złamała się i nikogo nie wydała. Harcerka. Gimnazjalistka. Patriotka. Pomagała rannym polskim żołnierzom we Wrześniu 1939. Schwytana jako zakładniczka za ukrywającego się ojca konspiratora. 25 IX 1924 przyszła na świat ZAMORDOWANA PRZEZ NIEMIECKICH ZBRODNIARZY GRAŻYNA KIERSZNIEWSKA. Na zawsze w naszej pamięci!

Send the patient home. Wait until their lips turn blue. Bring them in, put them in a coma, put them on a ventilator, and watch nine out of ten of them die. That was the official protocol, set by the WHO, the UN, and the United States government. Meanwhile, the doctors who refused to follow it, the ones who kept the Hippocratic Oath and treated the patient in front of them with whatever actually worked, were getting twice the survival rate. And those are the doctors who lost their licenses. Every single one of them, shut down, for having the best outcomes in the world and refusing to stay quiet about it. What we're left with is a medical establishment that purged its best doctors to protect a protocol that was killing nine out of ten people who followed it. That isn't a mistake. That is the greatest medical fraud that has ever taken place.