This kind of snuck up on me this year...

That's my girl. Straight up. Sad to say, it was this day in 1431 that Joan of Arc was martyred. And I hate being burned, something about bubbling skins and the pain that gets me. Seriously, think of Joan today. Who in the hell would give her the time of day, let alone an amry to kick the British ass that was in northren France. I like to look at the accomplishments JoA had like

Joan was born of peasant parentage in Domrémy (now Domrémy-la-Pucelle). When she was 13 years old, she believed she heard celestial voices. As they continued, sometimes accompanied by visions, she became convinced that they belonged to St. Michael and to the early martyrs St. Catherine of Alexandria and St. Margaret (255?–75). Early in 1429, during the Hundred Years' War, when the English forces were about to capture Orléans, the “voices” exhorted her to help the Dauphin, later Charles VII, king of France. Charles, because of both internal strife and the English claim to the throne of France, had not yet been crowned king. Joan succeeded in convincing him that she had a divine mission to save France. A board of theologians approved her claims, and she was given troops to command. Dressed in armor and carrying a white banner that represented God blessing the French royal emblem, the fleur-de-lis, she led the French to a decisive victory over the English. At the subsequent coronation of the Dauphin in the cathedral at Reims, she was given the place of honor beside the king.

Seriously, if I rolled up to the Whote House and started in with this line that god told me I would win the war, well hell I might actually be given the chance at this point.

Every year I try to do something to remember Joan of Arc. And it goes beyond watching that ex-GoGo do the arobics work out in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, I try to light a candle or burn some incense. Something. So tonight I am going to crack a bottle of vino open and give this French maiden her props.