Don't Look Back

Our democracy will die in the near future. There is great gnashing of teeth over trapping the perpetrators of the 06 January coup attempt, but the hazard lies ahead. Republican manipulation of the state wide electoral process has been well described by the national media, but it isn't clear to me that the average American understands the implications.

The media has played up the concept of state legislatures throwing out future results.This is a real possibility, and it may infuriate voters. We have never had to worry about our votes not counting. Now we will.

But I see another potential aspect. 06 January was a firebreak for political violence in modern American electoral politics. Expect Republican thugs and their fellow travelers to be present at key polling places, and expect them to seek violence as a way both to intimidate, and to simply act out for self aggrandizement. If you think it can't happen here, think back to 06 January 2021.

The fact is, the Roman Revolution in the United States has already begun (See Syme, Ronald; “The Roman Revolution. Oxford, 1939). Donald Trump may not be president, but he is in full control of the Republican nominating process. Elected officials in safe seats and offices have suddenly found themselves facing primary challenges due to some perceived slight felt by the Donald's fragile ego. He says the word, and a Trump loyalist challenges a long time Republican office holder. Trump is driving his party just as surely as Octavian was driving the Roman Senate. Those Republicans who might oppose Trump are silent (See McConnell, Mitch R-KY).

When we consider Democratic incompetence in the current congressional session, and Republican manipulation of the electoral process, the probability of a Republican Congress in 2022 is better than even, and a Trump presidency in 2024 an even better bet.

Once all branches of government are in Republican hands, democracy as we know it will fall to the lessons the Trump Administration learned in its first, abortive term. Donald Trump will be unrestrained.

Remember, the Constitution places responsibility for elections in the hands of the state legislatures. Only the social contract has kept that responsibility honest. “Stop the Steal” ended that contract as the Republican party abandoned the fundamental western concept of truth. Now truth is what you want it to be.

Biden's Red Line

I hear tell from Jen the Press PSecretary that President Biden has drawn a Red Rine with Vladimir Putin. Did Biden's National Security Advisor tell him that we are barely playing checkers (maybe tick tack toe) while Putin is playing 3-D chess? Jake Sullivan probably didn't bring that up because Jake is an idiot. At his all too tender age, the National Security Advisor is already a warmed over alumnus of the Obama Administration, where he helped craft such ingenious ventures as the Syrian fiasco (complete with its own very special, and meaningless Red Line) and the barely thought out Libyan adventure that destabilized the country without the slightest clue as to what the result might be.

The Red Line supposedly revolves about an “invasion”. So an internally engineered coup after destabilization, with Russian troops “requested” to intervene and restore order, crosses no Red Line. It's a familiar playbook.

President Biden was careful to chat with Ukrainian President Zalinsky for just about as long as he spoke with Putin. Uncle Joe's conscience will be clean in the aftermath, assuming he remembers all this.

Does anyone want to bet on the US having a coherent plan that has been vetted with our allies any more than we vetted the Afghan pullout?

It's Beginning to Feel a Bit Like 1939

I am a very poor predictor, but there is the smell of disaster in the air. The strong leaders are on the wrong side, and they are on the move. Putin in Russia is likely to move on Ukraine. He's taken a chunk of the country back, and would like it all. Russia would like Ukraine to once again be the 'The Ukraine,' or Little Russia. Given the sorry state of the Russian treasury, it's unlikely Putin would move that many troops and their materiel on the border unless he intends to use them. They may not execute a frontal invasion; they may be called upon to stabilize a country thrown into chaos by other means, but they will be employed for something.

My guess is that Putin's lackeys will wipe out Ukrainian telecommunications, then pull off a coup, complete with agents provocateur to create the chaos the new puppet needs to call for a stabilizing Russian intervention. That was the 40s playbook. Vladimir Putin has publicly stated that Russia feels naked without her empire. Russia supplies nearly all of Ukraine'a natural gas, so that's a card to be played. It can only be played well since the Putin has found another source of gas revenue, making it possible to shut the Ukrainian spigot. And he has found that source.

Joseph Biden, the Weak Old man in the White House, has encouraged this by waiving sanctions on users of the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline system, that bypasses Ukraine. It will supply our NATO allies with Russian natural gas and Putin with desperately needed money to enrich himself and his cronies, and finance adventures such as the destabilization and re-absorbtion of former Soviet colonies. Perhaps the Baltic states will be next. Though they aren't on the US news radar, Russia has been bombarding them with destabilizing fake news for years.

If Biden wanted to kick Putin back a few yards, he could leverage our “allies” to swear off Russian gas in return for US gas. We have enough gas, and there are enough LNG tankers to do the job. But Biden is too busy cutting the throat of his petroleum industry to placate the Democratic Party's extreme left wing.

On the other side of the world, China shows signs of preparing to invade Taiwan. China never, ever backs down. That's an important lesson that US foreign policy experts would do well to learn. You don't influence Chinese behavior. You might deter future action, especially if you are obviously willing to go to war. China isn't just paranoid at the thought of being surrounded. She is paranoid at the possibility of anyone preventing her from becoming the most powerful country in the world, able to dominate everyone else.

These days Chinese military aircraft are constantly violating Taiwanese airspace, and Chinese civilian ferries have been seen equipped to double as invasion craft. China's increased belligerence in this area may be tied to the following:

— The recent US security guarantee (how many Americans noticed this?)

— The US sale of a much more advanced block of F-16 fighters to Taiwan

— The landing of US Marines on the island for joint training

— The Taiwanese government's announcement that they have secured the necessary foreign technology to build their own modern submarines

The US has several allies and would-be allies who are affected by the Chinese vast territorial claims beyond their current borders based on “historical” issues. We should keep in mind that some of those Chinese claims are on Russian territory. Last time Russia and China fought over those claims (in the 60s) things got so out of hand that the Soviet Government felt obliged to move the strategic Baikal-Amur Railway several hundred miles north, “Just in case.”

The emergence of Xi as a singular apparent president for life has added to the risk.

It would not take a very big mistake to create a two front war in a world where the United States itself is an unstable democracy.

I could add more, but it would only distress, and details are, well, details. They cannot be well predicted. It's enough to say that a true Axis of Evil is on the move, and the United States is not only no longer the leader of the world's democracies. It is its own enemy. Look for things to get worse in 2024, if it matters by then.

THANKSGIVING 2021

by Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob (My Wife)

Thanksgiving 2021 arrives this Thursday, and I can honestly say I do not envy those making their personal pilgrimage, whether by car, train or plane. While the traditional Thanksgiving hymn says, “We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing,” this year I would give it a pass.

I understand how eager people are to see their loved ones, even it means taking the risk of illness and death. Last year most people cancelled their travel plans opting to stay home, watching the Macy’s Parade, and dine on a microwavable turkey dinner from the freezer section. There were virtual visits via Skype and Zoom and some took the opportunity to drive by grandma and grandpa’s house or nursing home and wave Thanksgiving greetings through the window. Most hunkered down and stayed put.

With only 50% of eligible persons fully vaccinated, families are having to decide if they CAN gather together safely this year. CDC predictions show an uptick in the numbers of infected and subsequent deaths, but won’t know for sure until 21 days after Thanksgiving. Breakthrough infections are possible even with the booster shot. So, we’re opting to stay home again this year. Crazy as it seems, YOUR right to remain unvaccinated trumps MY right to travel and visit friends and family safely.

One thing I’m not immune to is nostalgia. And I have been positively awash in holiday memories this past week. With over 60 years of Thanksgiving dinners under my belt I’ve been awash in holiday memories and my mental guest list has grown very long. During my childhood I never experienced a “Norman Rockwell” Thanksgiving.” Unlike the famous painting, OUR family turkey was never presented to the guests on a platter, whole and stuffed, admired in all its brined and browned glory. Instead, my father, a man well versed in poultry anatomy and skilled with an electric knife, elegantly carved the guest of honor in the kitchen, placing light and dark meat on platters to pass. There were serving dishes of stuffing, bowls of cranberry sauce, and an assortment of Jewish and Hungarian side dishes switched out for “traditional” all- American foods, like marshmallow topped sweet potatoes, and “classic”, string-bean casserole with mushroom soup created in 1955 by an employee of the Campbell Soup Company. I hope there was a bonus in her Christmas paycheck!

Whether you enjoy it or not, the turkey is THE all-American Thanksgiving food. But folks of every ethnic background have always found ways to personalize (and improve) the All-American bird with foods that reflect their heritage. Even those who do not traditionally consume turkey, cook one, because they are American, and that is what Americans do for Thanksgiving. Some gather with family to eat the tasty and diverse dishes of their immigrant ancestors, foregoing the string beans and marshmallows, and leaving the roasted bird as an untouched centerpiece, to be stewed or made into sandwiches the next day.

So how did we end up with this national holiday that evokes in every American feelings of gratitude, spirituality and patriotism? George Washington was the first president to proclaim a day of thanksgiving, issuing his request on October 3, 1789, but it fell short of becoming an actual Federal holiday. Subsequently, individual states, mostly Northern states, each held its own day of Thanksgiving. For fifteen years, the editor of Godey’s Lady’s Book, Sarah Josepha Hale, waged a one-woman campaign to get an American president to create what she referred to as, “the day of our annual Thanksgiving.” She persevered, finally writing to President Abraham Lincoln, urging him to have the "day of our annual Thanksgiving made a National and fixed Union Festival." Lincoln acted immediately, issuing a proclamation for a national, annual day of observance on September 28, 1863. He made the point that we Americans didn’t always give due credit to the Creator who enabled our abundant harvests. Included in the proclamation were the following words, “I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.”

I’ve spent several Thanksgiving abroad, and I’ve noticed that there is a particular pride in observing Thanksgiving with other Americans, even ones you’ve never met before, when you do find yourself in a foreign country. As if with the wave of a magic wand, all politics are set aside, and all feast together not as Republicans or Democrats, but as Americans. As Lincoln pointed out, we Americans are obliged to set apart and observe the holiday at the same time it is observed in the U.S. Many years ago, while studying in Israel, I helped assuage the homesickness of my fellow American students by pulling together a Thanksgiving feast for forty-five. We feasted on Tarnagol Hodu – Hebrew for turkey, which translates as Indian Rooster!

While I won’t be spending the holiday with others this year, I certainly have more than enough Thanksgivings on which to reflect. These are wonderful, treasured, vivid memories of meals shared with friends around festive tables in far flung places from New Jersey, to Minnesota, and California and many states in between. In my mind I recall the attributes of each unique celebration. I remember the conversations, the side dishes, the circumstances of the invitations to dine, and more often, these day, I find myself recalling friends and family who have passed on, yet who remain vivid in my memory as the day we celebrated together.

Should you find yourself spending Thanksgiving at home, either alone or with your very small circle, I hope you’ll take a moment for a little prayer; a few words of thanks to the Power behind it all.

I enter Your gates with thanksgiving,

With gratitude I sing out Your praise.

You provide food for the hungry,

Sending the rains to bring forth bread from the earth.

Thanks to Your abundant kindness, our fields yield a rich harvest.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, let us share our bread with the hungry; clothe the naked and shelter the homeless.

Help us to help those who have no help.

Help us to never take our blessings for granted.

Wishing each and every one of you a blessed Thanksgiving, no matter where you spend the day.

One is Born an Individual; One Becomes a Statistic

The following is the latest column by my wife, Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob, from the Culpeper Star Exponent

Since the start of the pandemic, we have been inundated with numbers and statistics meant to help interpret the unfolding disaster around us. Thanks to our news outlets we’ve seen graphs and charts updated daily, weekly, monthly, breaking down numbers of cases and deaths; vaccination rates by location, the lack of ICU beds in hard hit rural America, and charted and graphed the over 1700 healthcare workers who have died of Covid so far. Our epidemiologists, politicians, medical professionals, sociologists and news outlets, can barely keep up with, let alone analyze the statistics generated by data gathering organizations like the CDC or American Public Media’s “The Color of Coronavirus Project” which breaks down figures of Covid deaths by race, ethnicity, age and location in the U.S. The data is dry, but, in the words of science writer Paul Brodeur, “Statistics are human beings with the tears wiped away.”

There is no question that numbers and statistics can be powerful. But as any newspaper editor can tell you, news of one death is a tragedy; news of a hundred deaths is a statistic. And it is the one tragic death that makes the headlines. Sadly, Covid has shown us that the closer that death is to you, the greater the tragedy.

Be honest. When you look at the numbers, do you find yourself thinking, “but I don’t live there,” or “I’m young and healthy,” or “my local hospital still has beds.” And be really honest and admit you are relieved when you look at the numbers and think, “I’m not an Hispanic or Black American, or Pacific Islander, Native American, or Evangelical Christian. I don’t go to rock concerts or other large gatherings, and I don’t have a job in an essential industry where I come face-to-face with the public”. What you’re really thinking is “I don’t fit into any statistically vulnerable group, so Covid isn’t going to impact my life.”

But all that is about to change. We now have a new category for statistical analysis: Covid Orphans. These are children who have lost a parent or a grandparent with whom they lived and/or financially responsible for them, or other primary caregiver. And as of this point in time, over 120,000 children in the U.S. have become Covid Orphans. Does it matter what color or ethnicity or statistical group they land in? I can tell you that 35 percent of the kids are white, about 32 percent are Hispanic and about 26 percent are Black. And there will be more. And one way or the other, all of us will be impacted by their losses as they enter a lifetime of uncertainties, lost opportunities, along with financial, social and mental health challenges. So many times during the pandemic I have uttered, under my breath, “there but for the Grace of God, go I.” And just last month, someone in my own extended family died of Covid, leaving three children behind, now officially “Covid Orphans”. Just one more statistic? No, not when the tragedy creeps closer to home.

Good or bad, it is human nature to hide our heads in the sand, hoping that bad things will pass us by, and rarely do we extend a hand to help the other. Martin Niemöller, a German Lutheran pastor during WW II, is best known for his statement on man’s ability to turn his back on “the other.” We, in the U.S., having all experienced tragedy during Covid, can no longer afford to categorize the suffering of each ethnic or racial group. The suffering is catching up with each of us:

First they came for the Communists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me

And there was no one left

To speak out for me

Wishing you all a peaceful and healthy week.

PUTTING FRIENDSHIP TO THE TEST

The following is the latest column by my wife, Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob, from the Culpeper Star-Exponent:

We’d been friends since we’d met, over twenty-five years ago, when we’d bumped into each other in the university parking lot. We were a “mutual admiration society” and we each had the other’s back, no matter what. We laughed a lot. We could always talk; about anything, and everything. She was smart; a former economics professor, and we loved to shoot the breeze regularly on the phone or over coffee. We talked about life, the day’s headlines; societal, political, economic, and which movies to take in. For as long as knew her, she never ended a conversation without asking which book I was reading, and when I was laid-up with shoulder surgery, she sent me a three-pound translation of Don Quixote. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to read it or just lift it as a physical therapy weight.

Suzanne and I had been able to speak freely with each other on any topic, but that changed during the first year of the Trump presidency. Her news sources were different from my news sources. Her “truths” were different from mine. In retrospect, I suspect there were the beginnings of a fissure in our friendship during the long presidential campaign.

It wasn’t long before events overcame us and our friendship was taxed, seemingly beyond repair. It was apparent, for the first time, that, what I had always assumed were “our” deeply held values and views, were now divergent; I was shocked, and at a loss as to how to sustain our friendship.

The regular calls became fewer and fewer. Not knowing what to say, we talked about our kids, college and career choices, and before we knew it, we were talking about grand-children. But we had completely stopped talking about everything else. It seemed to be the only way to sustain a friendship that was now fraught with divisiveness.

As time passed, she had fewer and fewer friends in her circle, and she started to withdraw. It was happening all around me. People – family and friends, were withdrawing from book clubs, their houses of worship, and activities they’d enjoyed in the past because they couldn’t find their way around the conflict. It was the same scene on both sides of the aisle. Red. Blue. Remember “Color War” at summer camp? “Color War” would break-out with a lot of hooting and screaming by counselors. For one week, campers divided into Red and Blue teams to compete with each other, cheer their own team, write fight songs and behave with faux hostility. The last night, around a bonfire, everyone joined arm-in-arm, and sang “Red team, Blue team, together as one again”… a song of friendship regained, and for some, friendships retained through the years.

There were days, after my friendship with Suzanne seemed to be withering, when I would scroll down through my phone contacts, and almost call her.

Then, one day, the phone rang. “Rose, I have a brain tumor.” Suddenly, everything else in the world fell away, and we talked as friends talk when there is no one else who can understand. We talked during the treatments, we talked when she was too weak to walk. We talked when Covid made it impossible for her to see her children and grandchildren. And our friendship was put to the test when she wept on the phone and mustered the strength to say she’d had enough, and was ready to let go.

We resurrected our old friendship over her remaining months. With a spirit of trust and love, she reached out; writing me a note or two, her beautiful handwriting and thoughts almost illegible. She did her best to talk with me on the phone, until the last stroke took her speech as well.

After our last conversation I became overwhelmed with sadness. How many of us have lost touch with or avoided friends and family due to the political divide? I was infuriated by people who, in their misguided patriotic resolve to protect their personal freedoms, show little regard for the greater good. I was indignant that so many Americans were choosing to squander God’s greatest gift; life.

None of us know when it will be our time; or when our last opportunity to heal or make amends will come. We’ve missed out on so much over the past few years, and not just because of Covid. We’ve missed out simply because we have willingly chosen to break bonds of family and friendship over politics.

I received a phone call shortly before Suzanne died. It was her husband asking if I could guide him through the process of death and mourning. He bought a plot. He made arrangements with the funeral home. And when she finally passed, he called. “Suzanne asked that you conduct her funeral. You were her closest friend and you’ll know what to say.” I was blessed with one more opportunity to confirm my friendship, for which I am eternally grateful.

Farewell Afghanistan — The Final Look

Afghanistan might have faded completely from the ultra short American memory by now but for the Republican Party hammering the President mercilessly for doing what The Donald had promised to do. The liberal media doesn't give the President a pass, either. They will gladly pound Mr. Biden for his terrible Afghanistan performance.

A president can't be on top of everything, and if that's the case, perhaps Mr. Biden should fire the mediocre advisers in his midst, beginning with the most famous Obama Administration retread, Secretary of State Anthony Blinken, who seems clueless even in the most friendly environments.

The Republicans are ceaseless in their suggestions that the President might be mentally impaired. I take everything they say with a grain of salt; blind support of Donald Trump is itself a suggestion of mental impairment, so they are in no position to judge. But on the serious side, we might look back to FDR's performance at Yalta, where he gave away the store (or rather, Eastern Europe). The President was said to be very sick by the time Yalta rolled around, and it was no secret to his doctor that he shouldn't have run for a fourth term. I keep that in mind as I watch Joe Biden's decision making, which seems to me to be very much sub optimized. I'll say no more on that issue. If the Republicans are on to something concerning the President's decision making ability, it's an accident.

Still, we're lucky. We were permitted to leave Kabul as we wished. The British had to walk out through Khurd Kabul, and it wasn't pretty.

We'll be hearing about the poor Afghans for a long time, especially as they open their restaraunts around our country. But may we not hear about their country again. Like Iraq and Vietnam, it's another mess, a place where the politicians thought a war would work for them, and it would be the generals' fault if it didn't. Gosh — another bunch of stupid sons of bitches who wouldn't take democracy and run with it when we offered it to them, a billion dollars at a time, complete with support contractors to keep it in tune.

A Trout Fishing Fantasy

I lifted the chain, swinging the gate open so Rose could drive the car into the meadow. Once she had passed in, I got back into the passenger seat and directed her down the hill where we parked by the monument to Vince Marinaro and Charlie Fox. “This might be my last time here. It's been a long time, but I've got a lot of memories on this stream.” “It doesn't have to be the last time,” she said. “I know, but it's a long drive, and I'm seventy-one.” I looked through the thin screen of trees to the Letort, one of the legendary trout streams. It used to sit in quiet isolation; now a Home Depot buzzed up on the hill above the far bank. “Let's go fishing.”

I rigged my rod, slipping on a light vest. You don't wade the Letort, you just need shoes that can navigate a soggy bank. We sat on one of the benches and watched. Resting the water like this can tell you a lot. It was a cloudy day — a day of possibilities on a spring creek like the Letort, but right now there was nothing much happening, until. . . on the far bank, a trout sipped an insect off the surface. I was familiar with that spot — a nice undercut for a fish to hide, and let the current funnel food to it. It was a long, difficult cast. I tied on a little hot orange ant and put it as close to the bank as I could. After several tries, I was sure the trout was not buying what I was selling.

I looked back at Rose; she was reading a book. Tying on a Shenk's hopper, I put it about five feet ahead of the under cut, carefully mending my line as it drifted toward the spot. As the saying goes, all hell broke loose. The water erupted, and my reel sang as the trout took line. I slowed it a bit with my palm. Rose called instructions out to me. I put up my hand — “Not now,” I said. Don't worry about her, play the fish. She's a beauty. I've taken her. That's a tough spot. “Ed?” It was Ed Shenk, the legendary fly fisherman. I'd hired him as a guide once. I owned one of his hand made rods, and he gave me a small box of his flies. Yeah, it's me. You're not done with that fish. She's a tough one. That's one of the hoppers I gave you, isn't it? “You died last year, Ed.” When I had fished with him over twenty years ago he looked ancient, with coke bottle glasses and a limp. He looked older now. I know, I know. But Vince, Charlie, and I get to hang out down here. We spent so may years fishing on this stream. . . His voice trailed off wistfully. Some guy from DC bought Charlie's house. He almost never fishes; just likes to look down on the 'legendary Letort.' “Who are you talking to, Gary?” “No one; I was just musing about the history of this place.” “Well, let's get that fish in.”

The trout finally tired, and I brought her to hand. As soon as she was in the net I pulled the barbless hook out with a hemostat and carefully placed her back in the water. In seconds she swam off. Nicely done. Then Ed turned and walked away to sit with Vince and Charlie.

Farewell Afghanistan

For those who are listening to the news, or just casting a sideways glance at a newspaper, The Islamic Republic of Afghanistan is rapidly liquifying. This was apparently a surprise to President Biden and his horse holders, who continue to cite the overwhelming superiority of the 300,000 man Afghan National Army as opposed to the rag tag 65,000 man Taliban. The Taliban, uninformed of their inferiority, are running the table.

The recurring question amongst the news geniuses is: “How could we spend $1 trillion and twenty years of effort only to see it go up in smoke in just a week or two?” The optimists say Kabul will hold out for a month.

I have a different question: “We've been given a picture of the Taliban as an insurgent movement. In fact, events of the last ten days show them to be an army, with a complete operational planning element, and a logistics planning component. Without these, they couldn't have accomplished their coordinated conquests of both cities and strategic territory. Did US intelligence know of these capabilities?” President Biden's Pollyanna—like statements suggest that either we were unaware of these capabilities, or we preferred not to let on about them.

The Taliban skillfully cut off the Northern Alliance and the few border crossings that permit ready entry and exit to the mountainous country, then began a campaign of methodically conquering provincial capitals. It was said that Afghan troops fought well before running out of supplies and running off, shedding their uniforms and hitching rides home. News folks in the know stated that the central government was unable to resupply its forces. Taliban forces had no such problem. For a force barely a fifth the size of the Afghan National Army, without a US designed logistics system or air force, the Taliban seemed to understand that war was primarily about planning and logistics. If they were overextended, the Afghan National Army wasn't noticing, and the fact hadn't come to the attention of Pentagon Press Secretary John F. Kirby, who, for a press secretary seems awfully uncomfortable at press conferences.

One particular fact has gone unsaid throughout the US Afghan adventure. The Taliban are well supported by the Pakistani military. The is no power superior to the military in Pakistan, and they see Afghanistan as theirs to interfere in. They have a strong islamist streak. If the Pakistani military decided that the Taliban should not be operating freely in Afghanistan, they would be hard pressed to do so. A significant portion of Pashtun power rests on the Pakistani side of the border, and the Pakistani military has the power to disrupt the Taliban logistics chain. It's never been clear to me why this fact remains unsaid. (The Taliban are a Pashtun tribe. They represent about one-third of Afghanistan's ethic population. There are about as many Pashtun on the Pakistani side of the border as on the Afghan side)

The final item to be addressed is the shame of the United States at failing to evacuate those Afghans who assisted us in this ridiculous twenty year war effort. I won't discuss the stupidity of attempting to convert Afghanistan into a western democracy. But we have know for some time that at the moment of our departure (if not earlier) those Afghans who assisted us, whether as translators or in any other capacity would be in danger of being murdered. Yet we have wrapped the possibility of bringing them to the United States in the most impenetrable bureaucratic barriers. Ironically, if those same people could make their way to our southern border, they could just walk across, and not even receive a ticket for a court appearance. Yet we have doomed the majority of those who supported our war effort. The comparison to Vietnam and Iraq is apt, but the death toll may be higher.

For those who wonder how we got here, kindly remember that we always get to the same place. Once upon a time the likes of the Dulles brothers, and the John McCones of the intelligence world went about toppling governments we didn't like, replacing them with others that we may or may not have liked any better. It was a very foolish way to act, but not as foolish as assuming that every culture wants, or even understands western democracy.

The question of who is responsible for these failures is a tricky one. President Donald Trump famously blew up at his senior officers at an early briefing, telling them they didn't know how to win. Trump, of course, didn't know what he was talking about, either. He was busy helping the American public get tired of winning. In a 2007 article in Armed Forces Journal, Colonel Paul Yingling suggests that it's a failure of generalship — that our general officers have failed to make our leaders understand what it will take to win a war. You can read a discussion of that important article here. But the reality is different. If a general tells a leader what that leader doesn't want to hear, the general is either going to change his tune, or we're going to get a new general in here who sings the right song. Then we will march our forces in there so the politician can make his mistakes at the expense of the very small number of parents who send their kids off to the military.

Why can we and do we fight like this now? Because Colonel Yingling is wrong. Nations no longer fight wars. Politicians and the press fight wars, along with associated pressure groups. Oh, and a small number of military men and women, representing less than one half of one percent of the population. That's why we will continue to try to turn countries like Afghanistan, with illiteracy rates over seventy per cent, into western democracies with high tech militaries. We can't help ourselves; the thought of backing a non western democracy doesn't play in a world where foreign policy is made in the open press. Perhaps that means that the furture must belong to dictatorships such as China, if they can hold themselves together. It's also possible that the entire Westphalian model is obsolete, but we won't know until that's all over.

Revised 3 July 21

A Place Far Off

Carry me to a place far off,
A place where they don't know me,
A lonely place where whatever happens,
No one cares.
The place of silence and repose,
Where no one finds you,
So no one says,
He was asking for attention,
He needed help.
It's the place where you can just
Shed the sadness,
And cease to be in accordance with your desires,
Without attention.
Where those sad disappointments
Become mere oxygen,
And no one will say,
“What became of him?”
Where the love that never was,
Can slip the bonds of disappointment,
And evaporate with the soul,
And you can become nothing.

Another Day of Infamy

If 7 December 1941 was a day that would live in infamy, and 9/11/2001 was likewise a day that will long be remembered as a day when the United States was attacked by a foreign enemy (The Manhattan Raid, in the words of Osama bin Laden), 6 January 2021 will stand as a day more significant than either of the others. It was on that day that our sitting legislature was attacked by our own citizens, and if reports are to be believed, those citizens were led by our president, and aided by members of the legislature itself. That's called a coup.

The leadership of the President in this coup is only in doubt if you have truly drunk the Trumpian Koolaid, as most Republican members of the Congress have. If you have, stop reading now, and run your browser, and your mind, over to NewsMax or OANN. We have no business with each other. As for the assistance of members of Congress, its scope may never be known with certainty, but as evidence continues to surface, it appears that a core group if the rioters planned the assault in advance, and had access to the layout of the Capitol complex, courtesy of a tour no longer available the public. Hopefully arrests and interrogations will yield more ground truth, but the President's actions are a matter of public record.

Such treasonous acts have occurred before. Legislators have beaten their fellows within an inch of their lives at one time or another. But that was in the 19th century, when passions concerning slavery ran hot, and the country threatened to break apart. In fact it did, for four bloody years. At that point a way of life was at stake — not just for the right to own slaves, but for an entire economic system. Ironically, people see a way of life at stake now as well, though today it's more a perception of a way of life than a reality. And this is the 21st century — people don't cane each other anymore, don't shoot each other on the street . . . well, actually they do sometimes. What exactly are we doing to each other?

It is always presumed that the country is not coming apart because it hasn't come apart up 'til now. That's a bit like saying the space shuttle booster seals won't leak white hot gasses onto the fuel tank and blow it up because they haven't up until now. But we haven't taken a baby step; we've taken a giant step on the evolutionary road to a different kind of republic — one with feet of clay, more akin to that of India, where there might always be a democracy, but they are never quite certain what that means, or any number of South American nations, where periodically transformative events redefine what democracy means in ways that make people wonder if they're living in the same country.

On 6 January Trump's mob blasted the United States through a firebreak. The attack on the Capitol, organized by the President and his supporters, apparently aided and abetted by his supporters in the Congress, showed not just the Trump faithful, but all opponents of the party in power at any point in the future, that violently attacking the seat of government, whether the Congress itself, or other nodes of our democracy such as the White House or Supreme Court, that our Republic, with its three branches of checks and balances, could be thrown over if it pleased a dissatisfied mob egged on by the right political leader.

The fact that the leader was not held to account means that the Republic now walks on eggshells, forever wondering when the next adolescent President will throw a tantrum and attempt to kick over the table. The “climb proof” fencing surrounding the Capitol Building stands in mute testimony to that tragic change.

So, in the words of Lenin: “What is to be done?” All must not be lost. If predicting the future were that easy, we could just roll over and die in despair, but the thugs who perpetrated this assault upon our country represent a dying segment of the population. The issue for us is that they do represent a serious weakness in our republic, and the forces in opposition to them may be too weak to save the republic. The result may be a much diminished United States unless leadership arises that can steer the ship of state in a direction that can unify a sufficient number of factions to strengthen the country against the forces of chaos. That means stepping beyond placating the kooky woke children who seem to be driving the country through the mainstream press. It might even mean breaking some woke cohorts like the currently crazy New York Times in favor of more sane elements such as the Washington Post. The current administration has little vision beyond the discredited old school Democratic “free stuff” vision. It owes too much to too many constituencies, and it even seems determined to abandon the few foreign policy successes of the Trump administration either just because Donald Trump achieved them, or because they were politically incorrect in the Democratic playbook.

If I hear the phrase “good union jobs” one more time from the Biden Administration I'm going to vomit. What they really need is an industrial policy to beat the shit out of China. They can't do that until they really understand what China is doing, so everyone who's anyone in the administration needs to read the first three chapters of Michael Pillsbury's highly politically incorrect book “The One Hundred Year Marathon.” I know Joe Biden is a big China booster, but he needs to swallow his pride and read it. That's the beginning of a strong America. Not attacking China — simply building a stronger country over here. When China set out to surpass the US, they didn't mention it, they just took a steady strain . . .

Part II will be published later. Thanks for reading. glm

Rabbi Rose: Careful what you say or do. Children will listen

The following is my wife's column in the Culpeper Star-Exponent for 12 Feb 2021:

You know it has been a rough week when you find that your mental energy is divided equally between a Presidential Impeachment Trial and coverage of a Mutant Killer Virus Pandemic. Either could be turned into an interesting two-hour made-for-tv movie, but round-the-clock coverage of both has become unnerving and exhausting, with no respite in sight.

Broadcasters covering the trial now give us “trigger warnings” before graphic clips of rioters breaching the Capitol building, complete with strong, “unbleeped” language, and the parental caution that “the video includes images of violent behavior and may not be appropriate viewing for children...” YOU THINK? It is barely appropriate for adults! If WE are having nightmares over it, our kids, already in pandemic lockdown, are probably traumatized for life by scenes of grown-ups behaving badly.

How do you explain “grown-ups behaving badly” (GUBB) while viewing images of adults flaunting CDC guideline meant to keep Americans from spreading Covid-19? Try explaining to some kid why they can’t visit grandma, while events like drunken New Year’s celebrations or guacamole-dipping Super Bowl parties create their own “super spreader events.” Try rationalizing to a fourth grader that the current version of “freedom” in America is the right to not wear a mask, and the right to protest while brandishing firearms and beating up the police. Yes, adults can brandish firearms in the streets, in State Capitols, and in the United States Capitol while in session, but a kid can be arrested, tasered or expelled for bringing a toy gun to school.

Our kids are doing their best. They are trying to handle more burdens than their small shoulders can bear. They are stressed by isolation from peers, parental job loss, food “insecurity”… a fancy way to say they don’t know where their family’s next meal is coming from. Many have poor or no access to computers or internet service, making remote learning difficult or impossible. And directly, or indirectly, they have the fear of sickness or death hovering over them.

What is at stake here is the mental well-being of a generation that can no longer count on the “Golden Rule” to guide them. Doing unto others as you would have them do unto you is a two way street.

What ideas can you impart to your children, or the children in your life, that will carry them through this rough time in history, and build resiliency for their future? Here are a few pointers. Start with the simple statement that humans have the capacity to be good, although they are not ALL good. Human nature is basically good, but can be challenged in difficult times.

Next, morality needs to be taught by words and by example. In the past, we might have left this up to Sunday School teachers, but now it is up to us to model what it is to be moral. Focus on age appropriate examples of compassion and benevolence. Teach respect and courtesy, even if these currently are in short supply. Help them sift through the “right and wrong” of situations they are encountering. Discussions of right or wrong at a young age will develop into internal dialogues that may cause them to think ahead before making decisions. Many are the parents who have uttered the words, “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” The implied response is, they weren’t. We can only hope that learning the skill of assessing right and wrong will lead to a sense of wisdom as adults.

We know the importance of vaccinating to give us resistance to the virus. Now let’s apply the same idea to our children by inoculating them with the strength and tools to develop moral, and emotional health.

And always, we must teach by example. Lyricist Stephen Sondeim, wrote these words for the musical, “Into The Woods.” I leave you with his guidance and his words, which are haunting but oh so true.

Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Guide them along the way, children will listen
Children will look to you for which way to turn
To learn what to be
Careful before you say "Listen to me"
Children will listen

— Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob, Syria Virginia Email Rabbi Jacob

Mitzi, A Love Story

There are too many cat stories on the Internet.

Mitzi was a kitten born with a problem, or she developed the problem as a young kitten. Her anus leaked. There's no delicate way to say that. When she jumped, she let out a spurt. When she sat down and relaxed, she leaked. Sometimes, while walking across the floor, Mitzi would leave a trail of little puddles — and sometimes not. She came to my cat rescue group, MAD Cats, from a hoarding situation. The rest of the kittens we rescued from that sixty plus cat situation were fine. Three vets treated her, to no effect.

Mitzi's previous foster caregiver had become exhausted caring for her; most likely she would have been euthanized as a hopeless case. Rose and I accepted an opportunity to work with her, and so Mitzi came into our home. Unlike her last situation, where Mitzi was confined to a single room, we had to give her the run of the house. Our 100+ year old house has few doors, and Mitzi did not respond well to being caged. That's one of the reasons she couldn't stay in her last foster home. You see, Mitzi can talk. Not quite like humans, but Mitzi definitely does more than just meow. When caged, she constantly chattered. Whenever she was interested in something, she would talk to us about it. We often wished we could understand what was happening in that kitty brain of hers while she's talking to us.

When I came downstairs in the mornings to our only bathroom, Mitzi would go into her cage, right outside the bathroom door, which was nearly always open, and hop up onto the top level of the cat tree. While I brushed my teeth she would talk to me. Then we would go into the kitchen where I prepared her remedy. We had exhausted all conventional medicine, and had taken Mitzi to a homeopathic vet. Each morning Rose or I would carefully mix a special brew, “The Remedy,” and feed three CCs to her through a syringe. Mitzi enjoyed sipping the mixture from the syringe. Part way through, she would gently push my hand away, take a break, then take my hand and draw it back to continue. Mitzi would watch me prepare The Remedy from her kitchen perch, chatting away. When I had filled the syringe, she would stop talking, grasp the edges of the perch, and be ready.

Mitzi was like our baby. She would curl up on Rose's lap, get wrapped up in a blanket, and go to sleep. When Rose was working on her column, Mitzi would sit on her desk to help edit. If she got too helpful, Rose would push her off. Mitzi would jump onto the nearby recliner and curl up. Sometimes she would watch Rose work, and other times she would go to sleep. Mitzi also liked to come into the living room where I had my computer and ham radio station. She would try to curl up on the desk, but it was slanted, making it impossible, so she would sit in the recliner where I rested my feet, occasionally playing with my toes. I kept a towel on my lap in anticipation of her jumping up. Its consequences were messy.

Mitzi would march around the house with the miniature lamb-akin we had given her in her mouth. She took it everywhere, even to bed. If she forgot it for a few minutes, she'd suddenly look around, then go find it.

In spite of the efforts of three vets, Mitzi never improved. The homeopathic vet had only said that any improvement would be very gradual. This was not encouraging. Constantly cleaning up after her was exhausting, but we loved her. I felt such a sweet and loving connection with her. But as magical as her presence was, it could not last.

Over the last weekend in January Mitzi wasn't herself. She slept more than usual. Our very active kitten seemed tired. “Mitzi is sick,” I told Rose. She knew it too. Mitzi was vomiting something up, or discharging it. We would find it on the rug. But mostly Mitzi slept. She would find a place near one of us, curl up and snooze, sometimes opening her eyes and purring. We had both spent hours searching the Internet for the key to Mitzi's cure. In the end, the week before we had found just the opposite: Feline Inflammatory Peritonitis. It matched Mitzi perfectly, and had no cure. It was time.

On Monday, 1 February, I called the vet, and made an appointment for later that day. Rose offered to drive her, but this was to be my task. Given the pandemic, I wasn't permitted inside. The tech took Mitzi in, gave her a sedative, and brought her back to me so we could be together for a few minutes while it worked. I opened the top of the carrier and stoked her head. She was the same old Mitzi, purring like an outboard, wanting to climb up to be with me. I gently pushed her back inside and stroked the top of her head. She purred, laying down as the sedative took effect. I stroked her back, then closed the top and gave the carrier back to the tech. That was it. I sat in the truck until I could regain enough composure to drive home.

On the way home my phone rang. It was a voice mail. “This is Dr. Jacobson from Culpeper Animal Hospital. Mitzi passed peacefully a few minutes ago. I'm sorry for your loss.”

Five days after she died I was sitting at the kitchen table with a partial view out the back door. A pair of black ears walked across the porch. Mitzi? Of course not. It was our black cat Sherlock. But for just a moment she had evoked a perfect image of Mitzi.

Mitzi was a kitten with a beautiful soul that could reach out and hold you. She still holds me.

This is My Wife's Latest Article in The Culpeper, Virginia Star-Exponent — 14 January 2012

What is Past is Prologue

by Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob

Was it only three weeks ago that we optimistically anticipated the coming new year? Folks talked about putting the trials and tribulations of 2020 behind them and dreamed of a return to normal, even in the middle of a pandemic. A little naïve, perhaps, like “getting over” the Great Depression! The Covid vaccine was on its way, or so we thought and Americans behaved carelessly and in some situations, defiantly, as cases spread into every crevice of America and deaths grew to staggering numbers. But no amount of begging and pleading to take the virus seriously could overcome willful ignorance and selfishness, even as deaths zoomed way past a quarter of a million people.

In 2020 our nation faced countless challenges concurrent with Covid, such as destructive hurricanes so numerous that we blew through the entire alphabet naming them, and had to use Greek letters to identify them In the Western states, wildfires consumed whole communities, due in no small part to global warming. The polar ice cap continued to melt as the earth experienced its warmest year, and polar bears were seen slathering sun block on their fur and sipping Pina Coladas with tiny umbrellas while floating on the few remaining ice flows.

Wishing to see 2020 in your rearview mirror has its setbacks, like not paying attention to the impending wreck right in front of you! Shakespeare had it right, when he wrote in the Tempest: “What’s past is prologue.” The past is prologue to our present and the best predictor of the unfolding of our future. Perhaps that is why the Jewish optimist says, “Don’t worry, things couldn’t possibly get worse.” Welcome to 2021.

It is written in the Book of Proverbs that “Life and Death is in the power of the tongue.” How sadly and how powerfully this was illustrated last Wednesday when Mr. Trump spoke to thousands of his supporters at a “Save America” rally near the White House. Drawing like-minded participants from all over the country, its purpose was to challenge the election results. The words President Trump used as he addressed them for 70 minutes, laid the groundwork for his impeachment on the grounds of inciting violence. “We will never give up. We will never concede. It doesn't happen.” “You will have an illegitimate president. That is what you will have, and we can't let that happen." “If you don't fight like hell you're not going to have a country anymore.”

Encouraged by President Trump to walk the two miles to where the Electoral Votes were being counted and egged on by his inflammatory rhetoric, his supporters morphed into a lathered and frenzied mob of rioters who laid siege to the United States Capitol. Death, destruction, fear and mayhem ensued. Over fifty people were injured. Six lives were lost. And we learned, once again, that Death and Life are in the power of the tongue. And those who love it and indulge it will eat its fruit and bear the consequences of their words. Hate speech, and misinformation incite violence, whether Twittered or broadcast,

We can anticipate these next few days leading up the to the inauguration to be fraught with growing anxiety, trepidation, and angst, all elevated by a combination of on-the-ground reality, moment by moment news coverage, increased internet fear mongering as well as the sheer number of National Guard boots on the ground and drones overhead and FBI agents all in place to protect our leaders, our seat of government and our right to a peaceful transition of power during the inauguration.

Perhaps, between now and the swearing in of our next Commander-in-Chief, we can calm our hearts and minds with prayer.

Jewish communities throughout the world, and throughout history have prayed for their leaders. Be they kings, queens, princes, potentates, prime ministers or presidents, our prayers to God on their behalf include the following supplication; “Inspire all who lead and serve to conduct their affairs faithfully and with devotion and justice. May peace and security, happiness and prosperity, right and freedom abide among us.” In America, we also ask that God “Unite the inhabitants of our country, of all backgrounds, and all creeds to banish hatred and bigotry, to safeguard our noblest ideas, and to preserve the institutions which nurture liberty.” As we forge ahead, into 2021 with its unknowable path may we contemplate these words from Isaiah, “And the work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance forever.  And my people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.”

I'm Not Going to Watch What Happens Tomorrow — I'll Read About it in the Papers

The hours are ticking down on the last day of America's first adolescent presidency. The odds that Donald Trump can pull off one last prank in an attempt to remain in office have dwindled to near zero. He did manage a final child-like moment with a first class tantrum, though. Instead of sending an Air Force plane to bring the President Elect to Washington for his inauguration, Mr. Trump sulked in the Whitehouse, leaving Mr. Biden to fly a commercial 727 from his home in Delaware to Andrews Air Force Base. Rather than inviting the Bidens to the presidential residence for a tour and a meet and greet with the presidential staff, the new president's family was left to cool its jets in Blair House while Child Donald enjoyed one last Quarter Pounder with Cheese in the presidential living quarters.

An important lesson most parents try to teach kids, is that there is nothing worse than a sore loser. Thanks to a father whose wealth enabled his cheating throughout life (up 'til now), Donald Trump has not had to cope with losing, so this lesson could and did remain untaught. According to niece Mary Trump's book, the worse thing to Donald is a loser. Perhaps that's why in the days after the 2020 election he set off in such a singleminded pursuit to overturn Joe Biden's legitimate election win, and in the process created an army of millions of followers who are certain that the election was stolen from him. In fact, he didn't begin by saying it was stolen; he began by simply saying: “I won,” in the face of clear evidence to the contrary. And his army of true believers remain welded to his created truth. They have never put it down.

We shouldn't make this all Trump's fault. Over half the country hated him from the beginning. The morning after his election, long before he had even been sworn in as president, the enlightened crowd, the Hillary lovers, was already asking whether they could impeach him. And they never stopped until they had. Jerrold Nadler, Chairman of the House Judiciary Committee was in charge of the hearings. That might seem obvious, but Nadler, aside from being a buffoon, had been at Trump's throat since he was on the New York City Council; he hated Trump, and the feeling was mutual. In any righteous setting, Nadler would have been forced to recuse himself. The main charge, Obstruction of Congress, was created as an artifice in order to have the President violate it, in a similar manner that was done with Andrew Johnson. All this was foolish, considering the vast evidence of Trump's violation of the Constitution's Commerce Clause. But those in the House who hated Trump acted like fools instead of surgeons. That gained sympathy for his fans. He probably gained little sympathy or respect with the general public simply because Trump was and is such a lout, with no respect for the Constitution or our mechanisms of government. He tore it and them apart. I doubt if he ever read the Constitution. Whether he can actually read has not been determined. Presumably he has lawyers for that.

For my money, I'll go back to Trump's 2016 campaign speeches where he promised that there would be so much success in the country under his administration that we would all become tired of winning.

Frankly, Donald, I am very tired of your winning. Good riddance doesn't even say it.

But let's not get our hopes up. The Celebrtory Media, as I've come to thnk if it in the last few weeks, is putting great store in Old Man Biden. I hate to spit in the soup, because he is going to be so much better than Donald Trump was that we will be amazed in some ways, but Joe has had to make many a promise to the manifold pressure groups that balkanize the Democratic Party. Some of those groups are worth paying, and some are not. The business of fixing the country is more critical than paying all those clowns off. I hope President Biden can begin to do it before the forces of darkness notice what's happening. Watch this space. Pray if you're a believer. Otherwise, just cross your fingers.

Pages Flapping in the Wind

There are no accidents. When Mike Lindell, a passionate Trump supporter and national pillowmeister, left the Whitehouse, notes flapping in the breeze, with his suggestions for martial law clearly exposed, it was no accident. This was an old Donald Trump tactic going back to the first time he held court at Mar-a-Lago. John Bolton, one of his several National Security Advisors, even alluded to this exposed document gambit in his book In The Room Where it Happened. If you plumb the right depths, and proper Byzantine twists and turns of Trumpdom, though, you find that Mr. Mike told the President much more. He supposedly told The Donald that he had proof that Trump had won the popular vote 78 million to 67 million. He said he had solid proof of the fraud, “Right down to IP addresses.” This must have made the President's heart soar, but I expect he knows that there is little left for him to do.

If the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs is the soldier he should be, he has discretely told his Commander in Chief that while he commands, his troops only follow lawful orders. And the generals and admirals know what an unlawful order looks like. This would be important right now, because I have no doubt that Mr. Trump is, or at least was contemplating martial law. Right now he is labeled with that most onerous of Trumpian terms, loser, and if there were anything, anything at all that he could do to erase that, he would.

Let's hope he understands that his hands are tied.

We Remain in a Strange Place

It's appropriate that the presidential administration of an adolescent will both begin and end with the bizarre. At the outset, Child Donald insisted that that his inaugural attendance was the highest ever in the face of photographic proof to the contrary that showed a sea of empty seats. When faced with this proof, the President simply had the National Park Service doctor the photo.

As Mr. Trump's power seeps away, he tried the first coup in US history, sending a mob to sack the Capitol, calling for the Vice President's head, in an attempt to overturn a legitimate election. As his swan song, he intends to fly out of town in Air Force One at sunrise, obviating the need to ask permission of the new president for the use of the presidential aircraft. The loyal remnant of his staff is reportedly trying to drum up a healthy crowd of supporters to bid farewell, along with a twenty-one gun salute.

Mr. Trump has long been known to think well of himself. After the first ceremony where he awarded the Medal of Honor, he was reported to have asked a staffer if he could award himself the Medal of Honor. It was a curious request, but perhaps it should not have been unexpected from a narcissist with no understanding of the world, and no thought that the sun, moon, and stars do not revolve around himself. At this late date it's hard to believe that Mr. Trump will not try one last caper in an attempt to hold on to power — perhaps marshal law. Leaving quietly just doesn't seem to be in him, but eventually, 20 January will arrive. Quo vadis, Donald?

2021 Will be Worse Than 2020

I am sorry to inform, but with Donald Trump gone (hopefully), 2021 will continue the downhill slide experienced by the United States during the last four years.

It's a fact that our country has become less united in purpose and point of view over the past forty years, but that trend toward disunity has accelerated over the past twenty. Donald Trump has rubbed the fine obscurant off the window into that disunity with his big mouth and adolescent communications approach that lacks even the slightest self control. He has brought the anger level of all too many of our factions out into the open. The visible discontent was there; he simply loosed it. We know for certain that President Joe Biden will be a different man in conviction, and he will, at a minimum, be adult supervision. But that won't be enough.

The long nightmare of Donald Trump has birthed an army of Trumpkins, some of whom invaded the United States Capitol on 6 January. That invasion shocked and astonished many Americans, but the shocking news is how many weren't shocked; they approved. The MSNBC network revealed a survey of constituents of various congressmen and senators who had supported the machinations of the invaders. Senator Ted Cruz was a case in point. Not only is his political career still viable, a plurality of his constituents supported the invasion and sacking of the capitol building. That shows the level of hold Donald Trump has on a broad base of the voting population. It may not be all seventy-seven million of the Americans who voted for him, but it's a large chunk. They'll follow his lies, his fanciful, magical thinking wherever he takes it. After Trump is gone from the Whitehouse they will remain as a poison in our electoral system, even if he vanishes.

Personally, I think Donald Trump will find it difficult to remain a king maker after he's out of the White House. We'll see. If he gets himself a good media gig he may endure. I may be wrong, but his pronouncements have gotten more and more weird of late. And I think Trump's successors in the Republican Party will find it difficult to ride the fanciful Trump wave. It may have been a lot easier to have supported the wave of lies than to keep it pumped up with new ones once the leader of the lying cabal is gone. But support for the nature of Donald Trump's presidency will sap the soul of the party. It's a soul that has been artificially pumped up these last four years. I don't see the Democrats, the party of free stuff and mass illegal immigration, as being much stronger. What we need is an industrial policy to strengthen the core of the country. Fat chance. The Democrats make their money by promising the disparate members of their coalition the stuff they want.

All this means the country is going nowhere successfully. (sigh)

The Firebreak is Gone

I haven't written for a few weeks out of depression. Immediately after the election, as the “Stop the Steal” movement gained momentum, it became clear that Donald Trump really wouldn't go quietly. Prior to the election there had been articles, and even a book or two by the Trump obsessed press asking “will he go?” It didn't take long to see that he might go, but not without a fight. The Republican Party, as a morally bankrupt entity, would do anything to remain in power. Their loudest acolyte was Mark Levin, a nightly radio voice who finally settled on Article 2 of the Constitution, that gives the State Legislatures the power to set the method by which their states conduct elections. This fellow decided that any change to election method wrought by a state elections board, rather than the legislature, was illegal, hence, if that state's citizens voted for Joe Biden after the election rules had been changed, their votes were illegal, and it was right and proper for Congress to change their electors to Trump. It hasn't occurred to Mr. Levin that a legislature's certification of its electors is approval of its balloting process. Apparently even a change in the glue on the ballot envelopes requires legislative approval. Arguing with Mark Levin is like wrestling with a pig. Finally, I'll leave aside the rest of the conspiracy theories about Venezuelan voting machines and fake ballots from China; it's just too much.

Here we are on 7 January. Yesterday the President incited a mob to ransack the Capitol Building in an apparent effort to stop the joint session of Congress from counting the ballots that would finally certify Joe Biden as President. It had never happened before. But once it has happened, we have passed a fire break, and it will happen again. Thugs, having seen it done, will think nothing of acting it out again when they are “upset”. That's the way of the United States these days. Once any firebreak is gone, an outrage is repeated again and again. Let a man be unhappy at work, he'll shoot up the place. If he doesn't have a gun, he'll start a fire. Women seem particularly fond of fire.

In the days leading up to 6 January the United States has looked as much like the U.S. of 1859 as anything, except we aren't divided geographically. The Trumpkins and normal folks are salted amongst each other. That makes things all the worse. For a taste of the similarity, read the opening segment of McPerson's book. At this point, the Civil War itself has been hashed and rehashed, but the era before the war, when the likes of Calhoun raged against the northerners is of interest. He sounds like those Trump clowns raging about draining the swamp. We live in a binary era; you are either a socialist who believes in abortion or you aren't.

While the police worked to regain control of the Capitol Building, most of those coo-koo Republicans talked about not objecting to the vote count after all. But when the counting started, the core group of nut jobs couldn't help themselves. They so covet the good will of the mob that had just finished sacking their work place.

FaceBook and Twitter have closed Mr. Trump's accounts (at least temporarily). It might be best to keep them open so that citizens can see what our president is made of — truly nutty stuff.

The irony of what goes around comes around:

After both elections of President George W. Bush, certain Democratic Congressmen and Senators put their colleagues through the same drill of objections about an illegitimate election. For some reason, the press, both liberal and conservative, showed no interest, and no one took it seriously.

At least one Democratic Representative has introduced articles of impeachment against every Republican president beginning with Ronald Reagan. Either our presidents have gotten worse over the years, or our habits have. This doesn't get much play in the press either.