The Deep & Shallow State
Much like Dr. Frankenstein, a few years after creating the CIA, President Harry Truman deeply regretted having given it life. In an op-ed piece he wrote after leaving office in 1953, Truman complained that the CIA “has been diverted from its original assignment. It has become an operational and at times a policy-making arm of the Government.”
In the intervening decades, it has only gotten worse as it devolved under the likes of unrepentant Deep State Never-Trumpers like John Brennan and Michael Hayden.
This isn’t to single out the CIA for an extra measure of scorn. It is the fate of every department and agency in the federal government to attempt to become all-powerful and anti-democratic.
In a few cases — most notably the F.B.I. under J. Edgar Hoover — they become personality cults.
But whether it’s one of the intelligence agencies, the State Department or even the EPA under Obama, they tend to become gargantuan, power-mad and, of course, ultra-partisan.
Even the IRS, which purports to be neutral, despised by all equally, has carried on like the enforcement arm of presidents such as Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon and Barack Obama, as we saw when Lois Lerner illegally targeted conservatives at his direction.
As you may have noticed recently, the so-called whistleblower who leaked President Trump’s phone conversation with his counterpart in Ukraine to the media — a call he apparently never heard — is a CIA employee who had been stationed (planted?) in the White House.
If it were Obama who was in the Oval Office and this anonymous traitor was a member of the Never-Obama cabal, people like Nancy Pelosi, Maxine Waters and Ilhan Omar would be calling for the whistleblower’s arrest. And the only investigation that Adam Schiff and Jerry Nadler would be calling for would be one to ferret out the identity of the senior CIA official responsible for assigning a mole disloyal to the president to such a sensitive position.
It should be remembered that these are not just the ramblings of a man who happens to believe that Trump is proving to be a great president, who is unfortunately surrounded by an assortment of sharks, spies and schmucks. It was the Senate’s own minority leader, Charles Schumer, who early on warned President Trump: “When you mess with the intelligence community, they have ways to ruin you six ways to Sunday.”
He wasn’t kidding. Consider the fact that we have already seen the Deep Staters try to destroy Trump and his administration through a concocted Russian dossier; discredited FISA warrants; a two-year witch hunt that attempted and failed to tie him to Vladimir Putin; perjured testimony by James Comey and Andrew McCabe; an “insurance policy” cobbled together by Peter Strzok, Lisa Page, Bruce Ohr and Andrew McCabe, to bring down a duly-elected president; and questionable subpoenas and indictments intended to compel Trump’s friends and supporters to turn on the man or face impoverishment and imprisonment.
If anything, Sen. Schumer underestimated the amount of corrupt mischief these cursed bureaucrats can cause those who are at odds with their political agenda, whether it involves Russia, China, Iran, North Korea or, most dangerously of all, the United States.
There are many troubling aspects related to the global warming/climate change hoax, starting with the sneaky way they changed the name of the hoax without ever mentioning it was because even some of the hoaxers were reluctant to lie about the non-existent warming. Much better to call it climate change, which would allow them to point to any change — whether things were heating up or cooling off, whether there were more or fewer hurricanes, more or less rain — as proof that we had better get busy doing something, so long as it was to the detriment of the U.S. economy specifically and Capitalism in general.
But one of the most pathetic aspects of the multi-trillion dollar con game is proof of how easily it is for those on the Left to bamboozle so many millions of people.
Even after 25 years of there being no discernible change in the planet’s climatic conditions or any sign that the sea level is rising the way that Al Gore predicted back in the mid-90s, there are still those who continue spouting nonsense about existential threats to the earth and its seven billion inhabitants.
If you require additional evidence that they’re all a bunch of self-serving, virtue-signaling, hypocrites, you only need to be aware of the fact that the leaders of the climate crusade are constantly traveling to their weather conferences, their next campaign stops and to their Pacific island and Caribbean vacations, on private jets. Carbon footsteps be damned, we have places to be!
After I recently brought up the weird fact that Jewish delis are constantly offering whole sandwiches for, say, $17 and half-sandwiches, not for $8.50, but for $14, and wondered why, I heard from a friend named Patrick Miano.
He reported that as a teenager in the 1960s, he had an after-school job at a Jewish deli, where he described his boss as a “kindly old Yiddish man from Poland.”
Patrick said he, too, noticed this price oddity and asked his boss about it.
He said: “Because it’s easier to make a full sandwich than half a sandwich and I don’t want the food to go bad waiting for some other schmuck to order the other half. This way they don’t bother me with stupid orders.”
I replied: “He may have been kindly, but not too logical. To make half a corned beef sandwich, you merely slice a piece of rye bread in half and use half as much corned beef.”
In the past month, I have heard from three people asking if I’m related to the author of children’s poetry Jack Prelutsky.
My brief answer was that I didn’t know, but thought I probably was.
I had never heard of the guy back in the 1970s, but I had a friend who had three kids and she asked me if I was related to her kids’ favorite writer.
The next time I was in a bookstore, I checked out the name of his publisher and wrote him a letter.
For weeks I heard nothing. Then one Saturday evening, just as an episode of the “Mary Tyler Moore Show” I had written ended, the phone rang. The caller said he was Jack Prelutsky and that seeing my credit jarred his memory. He was out from New York visiting friends in Seattle and was thinking he might head down to L.A. before going home.
I told him that if he showed up during the day, he would find me at MGM where I was working on a pilot script. But as he sounded unsure of his plans, I forgot about it.
A few days later, I got a call from the guard at the studio gate. He said there was someone who wanted to see me. Having no idea who it could be, I wandered down and as I came around the corner, I saw someone who looked exactly like one of my older brothers. Same size, same coloring, except I found myself wondering when Ted had grown a beard.
But of course it wasn’t Ted, it was Jack.
We had lunch, but neither of us knew enough of our family history to figure out the connection. But thanks to his uncanny resemblance to one of my brothers, I guessed that our grandfathers had been brothers.
We didn’t stay in touch after he went back to New York. But a few years later when I read that he had been named the nation’s Children’s Poet Laureate, I sent him a congratulatory letter.
He didn’t bother acknowledging it. Which was enough to convince me he was indeed one of my relatives.