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
Saturday, February 13, 2021
Friday, February 12, 2021
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
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
Monday, February 8, 2021
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.
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.
Friday, January 22, 2021
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.”
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.”
Tuesday, January 19, 2021
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.
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.
Sunday, January 17, 2021
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.
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.
Saturday, January 16, 2021
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?
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?
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