This raid on mar a lago reminds me of 1976 our moms raid on our bedroom.

[Duncanpup]

It all started with her flipping our mattresses and she found a porn mag under my one brother mattress, it all went downhill from there doing interrogation mom discovered three of the five boys were involved in this porn magazine ring.

We would steal them off of our uncle he left his home unlocked when when he was working Got worse cuz she then discovered we were also drinking his beer. Sunday school attendance for us kids increased by 100% that summer.

[Ferrets are Cool]

1. This made me chuckle

A similar situation taught me to HATE the phrase "I have a bone to pick with you".

[EYESORE 9001]

2. I hope the resident parasite at merde-a-log'o

Suffers greater consequences than involuntary Sunday school.

[Emile]

3. LOL

[edbermac]

4. My mom got mad finding a copy of Playboy hidden in my room

And my dad got even madder because it was his!

[Brainstormy]

5. My grandmother said that God told her

to look under my mattress. (where I stashed my diary.)

[Ohioboy]

6. There was a similar raid involving myself and two of my friends

Our moms all knew each other and shared in a coordinated investigation and surprise raid. They took down the whole operation.

[Duncanpup]

7. I didn't flip it was my brother

[Bucky]

8. Lock you up, lock you up!

Now your mom is Merrick Garland. Justice is unstoppable

[hunter]

9. Me and my siblings were almost feral children in some ways.

My parents are artists. They had day jobs to feed and shelter us.

There were no expectations of privacy in a three bedroom house with too many people living in it. Two of my siblings left home when they were sixteen but it didn't reduce the line for the bathroom or increase the likelihood of getting a hot shower. It only opened up space for other people to move in.

At college I rented a small apartment with two other guys in a noisy student slum and I was amazed how often I had the place alone. That NEVER happened when I was growing up.

When my parents retired they decided they deserved some alone time and moved away leaving one of my brothers in charge of the house. It didn't change at all. He and his wife did take a room for themselves but the rest of the house continued to be a sanctuary for struggling artists and all sorts of other interesting people.

My parents sold the house when the McMansion developers moved in ripping up orchards, establishing home owner's associations, making the roads safe for shiny expensive automobiles... etc. Little remains of the places I knew as a kid.

I really can't imagine my mom or my grandmother digging through my stuff, ever, probably because everybody already knew everyone else's business. There were house rules, it wasn't anarchy. But photos of random naked people and minor sorts of blasphemy would not bring down the wrath of the matriarchs.

Everyone knew our great grandmas were the sort who could kill a bad man and ask the sheriff to clean up the mess. I don't think they'd have tolerated a guy like Trump.