A Letter to Bibi
I write a lot more letters than I receive. That’s probably due to the fact that I often write to strangers. As a rule, they don’t write back.
I write a lot more letters than I receive. That’s probably due to the fact that I often write to strangers. As a rule, they don’t write back. Another rule is that they don’t take my advice. But when you’re an optimist, as I happen to be, hope springs eternal.
So, the other day I sent this letter to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu: “First off, I would like to congratulate you on winning an unprecedented fifth term. Next, I would like to congratulate the Israeli people for having the wisdom to keep electing you.
"I appreciate the fact that you wish to express your gratitude to President Trump by naming a new settlement on the Golan Heights in his honor. But that brings up my main purpose in writing to you.
"I believe and have always believed that you, along with all the previous prime ministers, made a mistake in referring to "settlements” instead of calling them communities or neighborhoods. The word conveys the sense that they’re temporary. And as we’ve seen over the years, as Israel has regularly abandoned one settlement after another to the barbarians in the foolish and contemptible attempt to trade land for peace, the settlements have indeed lacked permanency.
“In the United States, we don’t refer to places as settlements. We call them towns and cities. They belong to us. They are a part of the nation.
"I would suggest in the future that you and those who will in time follow you in leading Israel cease telegraphing your willingness to hand over that which rightfully belongs to your nation to your enemies. Sincerely, Burt Prelutsky”
Jim Roach has let me know that he thinks Trump should be charged and found guilty of obstruction of in-justice.
I recently questioned why Relief Factor, a product that promises to relieve temporary pain, would compel you to remember to cancel your order after one month, lest you be charged month after month. It seemed to me to be a sleazy sales technique and one that such conservative radio talk show hosts as Larry Elder, Dennis Prager and Sebastian Gorka, shouldn’t personally endorse. I’m sure that none of them needs the money that desperately.
In response to the article, I heard from long-time subscriber Jay Lehr, who wrote to say: “I tried one month of the stuff. It was worthless.”
It did make me wonder if those personal testimonials by the radio pundits, all of whom swear to its magical healing powers on a daily basis, are sincere. But, then, I have long-contended that these guys should think twice before becoming pitchmen. They run the very real risk that their listeners will begin to wonder if they regard a payday as more important than their principles.
My friend Steve Maikoski sent me a picture of a t-shirt that might appeal to conservatives. It was inscribed “I Support LGBTQ"—Liberty, Guns, Bible, Trump, BBQ.
Scott Nielsen passed along a photo of Ronald McDonald with the question, "What’s the difference between McDonald’s and the Democrats?” The answer: “McDonald’s only has one clown leading it.”
I replied: “Also, McDonald’s doesn’t serve nutburgers.”
After I announced that I don’t have any death-defying items on my bucket list and that, in fact, I don’t have such a list and don’t understand why other people do, I heard from Patrick Miano, a Vietnam veteran.
After mentioning some of the dangerous tasks he had to undertake over there, he went on to write: “Being in a nasty war tends to make you lose your taste for adventure. Many old people regret that they lived boring lives which is why they do that nutty stuff. After my military service, I welcomed the boredom. I understand why my father liked the 1950s. It was for the same reasons I enjoyed the 1980s. Boring? Conformist? Uneventful? YES, THANK GOD!”
My response: “I’m with you. Boring times requires you to make your own life interesting and productive. In a way, it’s why I like the climate in Southern California. It allows me the freedom to decide how I wish to spend the day, freeing me of having to deal with snow, sleet and icy roads.”
Of all the folks seeking the Democratic nomination, I think I just might despise Peter Buttigieg the most. It’s not because he is in favor of open borders, promotes the Green New Deal or would bankrupt the nation by, one, making college tuition-free and, two, mandating Medicare for All.
Heck, they’ve all signed on for that. What makes Buttigieg stand out from the crowd is that he is trading on his homosexuality by attacking a good and decent man, Mike Pence.
Buttigieg has spent a good deal of time pretending that Pence is a gay-bashing hypocrite, although there is no evidence that the Vice President has ever been anything but supportive of his fellow Indiana politician. In fact, if Buttigieg’s intention was to show the world how Christianity has dictated Pence’s response to unfair attacks, he couldn’t have done a better job. Pence hasn’t merely displayed tolerance in the face of these unrelenting insults, he has taken Christ’s words about turning the other cheek and loving one’s enemy straight out of Scripture and inserted them, against all odds, into American political life.
The only good thing to say about Buttigieg is that he has probably nipped Beto’s presidential campaign in the bud. Or perhaps the butt.
Roger Kovaciny, my lone subscriber in Ukraine, observed: “The whole point of reparations is so that most of the money will end up in the pockets of white Democrats, and a small portion will go to black Democrats in the form of ‘job-training programs’ that won’t actually do them any good.
"Socialists are all little Robin Hoods who steal from the rich, give to the poor, and keep a 75% commission for their efforts.”
According to Bob Hunt, two old guys, Leo and Frank had been friends since childhood. When Leo wound up in the hospital, it was clear he would die there. Frank made it a point to visit every day.
One day, Frank said: “We’ve always loved baseball. We even played on our high school team. Please do me one favor: when you get to Heaven, try to let me know if there’s baseball up there.”
Leo smiled and said, “It wouldn’t be Heaven without baseball, but I’ll try to let you know one way or the other.”
That evening, Leo passed away.
A few nights later, Frank was awakened by a flash of light and a voice calling out “Frank! Frank!”
Sitting straight up in bed, Frank said: “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Frank. It’s Leo.”
“Leo? Is it really you? Where are you?”
“I’m in Heaven.”
“So, what’s the answer, Leo? Is there baseball up there?”
“Well, I have some good news and a little not so good news.”
“Tell me the good news first.”
“The good news is that we have baseball. What’s more, it’s always springtime, so games never get rained or snowed out.”
“That’s fantastic. So, tell me, what’s the bad news?”
“You’re pitching this Thursday.”
