Life in Never-Trump Land
Frustrated by his inability after more than a year of snooping into the Russian collusion nonsense to find a smoking gun with President Trump’s fingerprints on it, Special Counselor Robert Mueller is now empowering New York prosecutors to go after Trump for colluding with Stormy Daniels.
Frustrated by his inability after more than a year of snooping into the Russian collusion nonsense to find a smoking gun with President Trump’s fingerprints on it, Special Counselor Robert Mueller is now empowering New York prosecutors to go after Trump for colluding with Stormy Daniels.
And, of course, the FBI, which currently sees its primary mission as getting rid of President Trump by any means possible, couldn’t wait to conduct a raid on his lawyer’s office in order to confiscate confidential communications between the president and attorney Michael Cohen.
It makes a person wonder if Mueller and his cohorts would have stooped to bugging the confessional if Trump happened to be a Catholic.
The only possible legal rationale for what appears to be a witch hunt would be if it turned out that Stormy Daniels was a Russian agent, referred to in the spy trade as a honey pot, a latter-day Mata Hari who used her feminine wiles to entrap her prey. Short of that, it’s high time that Robert Mueller shut down his sideshow and got back to doing what he does best, scaring the heck out of the neighborhood kids with his dead-on impression of Ichabod Crane.
It’s not that I object to Donald Trump being investigated if anyone can come up with an actual crime he’s suspected of committing; I mean, aside from having won an election he was expected to lose.
In the meantime, I’d like to see the talking heads at CNN and MSNBC, along with the editors and reporters at the NY Times, The Washington Post, Time magazine and The New Yorker, placed under a microscope. After all, those entrusted to report the news objectively have a grave responsibility to the nation. It’s the reason the Founders made certain to provide protection for a Free Press in the First Amendment.
That being the case, haven’t we the right to know if these alleged paragons of virtue pay their fair share of taxes, have ever had the police called to their home to investigate reports of domestic violence or been treated for sexually transmitted diseases?
Back in the 1920s and ‘30s, Walter Duranty, a British-born, bi-sexual drug addict who was the New York Times bureau chief in Moscow, was double-dipping, simultaneously collecting a salary from the paper and from Joseph Stalin. In spite of the fact that Duranty regularly referred to Stalin as “the greatest statesman in the world” and lied about Stalin’s failing economy, while neglecting to mention the millions of Ukrainians who, in retaliation for refusing to surrender their farms to the state, were being systematically starved to death, Columbia University gave Duranty a Pulitzer Prize in 1932.
Years later, displaying the sort of journalistic integrity for which it is so well known, the Times refused to give back the Pulitzer even when the sordid facts were finally made public.
Personally, I’d love to know how many of the Never-Trumpers calling themselves journalists even as they openly shill for the Democrats and the traitorous rats infesting the Department of Justice, the FBI and the State Department are cashing checks signed by George Soros.
If these propagandists are having their salaries supplemented by George Soros, I believe the public deserves to know about it. And if they’re not being subsidized, I wonder why they haven’t thought to bill the evil Hungarian. I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige them, just as he does the hooligans affiliated with antifa and the Black Lives Matter movement.
Even referring to these professional liars as journalists or reporters is to bastardize the language. I’m reminded that in the old days, every time a hooker was arrested or murdered here in Los Angeles, the local rags would invariably identify her as a “starlet.”
These days, it takes the form of referring to Stormy Daniels as an “actress,” James Acosta as a “journalist” and Jimmy Kimmel as a “comedian.”
The rare good news coming out of California is that there are now 13 cities that are at war with Sacramento, including Barstow, Los Alamitos, Escondido, Westminster and Newport Beach, fighting back against Jerry Brown’s sanctuary state law.
The other good news is that a venture capitalist, Tim Draper, has apparently collected enough signatures to guarantee that his proposal to divide California into three states will be on our ballot in November.
Mr. Draper, one of the rare California billionaires who is a conservative, has pointed out that the state, with a population in excess of 40 million and the acreage of a dozen states on the eastern seaboard, is essentially ungovernable. In short, it is too big to succeed.
Of course, the folks currently running the state into the ground would disagree. In spite of a constant exodus of middle class Californians seeking their own sanctuary from excessive property taxes, the highest gasoline tax in the nation, oppressive business regulations and the nation’s largest number of bums and illegal aliens, the Democrats running the asylum think they’re doing a great job.
The bad news is that the way Mr. Draper has drawn the proposed state lines, two of the three states would be filled with liberals, only one with conservatives, which would result in two additional U.S. senators dancing to Chuck Schumer’s fiddle.
My own status as an Angelino would be unchanged, as I would continue to live under the authority of the liberal loons.
Speaking of which, one of my subscribers wrote to ask how I maintain my sanity: “With all the thoughts constantly going through your mind, you must almost be in information overload.”
I replied: “Now that you mention it, I do sometimes have a tough time dropping off to sleep because I keep thinking of things I need to jot down in my bedside notebook. On the plus side, by getting to vent on nearly a daily basis, I provide myself with an outlet that prevents the pressure from building up and eventually causing my head to explode.
"As for the insomnia, I generally deal with it by counting sheep who resemble Chuck Schumer, Nancy Pelosi, Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren — and the occasional black sheep that looks a lot like Maxine Waters or Elijah Cummings — jumping over a fence at the edge of a cliff.”
Marie Colburn, the gem of Hernando, Florida, shared a list of things you might expect people to say as they advanced from childhood to old age. I suspect that most of us would recognize the list as an example of folk wisdom, whereas liberals would find it incoherent and would have to wait and see the movie.
“I’ve discovered that I like my teacher because she cries when we sing 'Silent Night’” (age 5).
“I’ve discovered that my dog doesn’t want to eat broccoli, either” (age 7).
“I’ve discovered that when I wave at people in the country, they stop what they’re doing and wave back” (age 9).
“I’ve discovered that if you want to cheer yourself up, you should try cheering someone else up” (age 13).
“I’ve discovered that although it’s hard to admit, I’m secretly glad my parents are strict with me” (age 15).
“I’ve discovered that silent company is often more healing than well-meaning words of advice” (age 21).
“I’ve discovered that wherever I go, the world’s worst drivers have beaten me there” (age 26).
“I’ve discovered that brushing my child’s hair is one of life’s great pleasures” (age 29).
“I’ve discovered that if someone says something unkind about me, I must live so that no one will believe it” (age 34).
“I’ve discovered that there are people who love you dearly, but just don’t know how to show it” (age 42).
“I’ve discovered that children and grandparents are natural allies” (age 47).
“I’ve discovered that no matter what happens, or how bad things seem today, life does go on and it will be better tomorrow” (age 51).
“I’ve discovered that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights” (age 54).
“I’ve discovered that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you miss them terribly after they die” (age 59).
“I’ve discovered that making a living is not the same thing as making a life” (age 61).
“I’ve discovered that life sometimes gives you a second chance” (64).
“I’ve discovered that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But if you focus on your friends and family, the needs of others, your work and doing the best you can, happiness will find you” (age 67).
“I’ve discovered that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one” (age 74).
“I’ve discovered that I still have a lot to learn” (age 80).
Just in case some of you prefer your medicine straight, without sugar, from the pages of “Screw Calm & Get Angry,” we have: “The average man’s opinions are much less foolish than they would be if he thought for himself” (Bertrand Russell); “Half the world is composed of idiots, the other half of people are clever enough to take indecent advantage of them” (Walter Kerr); “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you’re a fool than to open it and remove all doubt” (Mark Twain); and “Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something” (Plato).
