Category: Marion DS Dreyfus

So what if the President Trump did use that word?


They are indeed horrible places, where corruption and citizens’ fear are the order of the day, where their alleged governments are rife with unloving, greedy, small-minded, and power-lusting so-called leaders.

These are countries whose human products are not, in the main, people we need here – not because they are this shade or that, but because their average standard of skills, education, integrity, and civic virtue is at tremendous variance from what we have for 241 years essayed to raise and keep elevated.

We are not, in the main, uncharitable.  But if your home comfortably seats twenty, if you push the limits of your beds, sofas, carpeting and easy chairs, what happens when an unexpected troupe of fifty more uninvited decide you have a real nice view, and they like your fixin’s?

Ever had a party?  The work of the party isn’t so much the prep and the cooking and shopping for comestibles and beverages.  The real angst of the party is the clean-up.  The guests rarely stick around for the empties and no-ashtray-won’t-stop-their-smoking butts, the wrappers and pizza crusts, or the half-eaten messes on the cake trays.

That’s the U.S.  But we aren’t a night-and-day party, though the uninvited “guests” keep slavering after our table, sleeping on the new couch covers, using up the toilet tissue, leaving an unidentifiable restroom aroma, and wolfing down the leftovers you’d hoped to serve your spouse the next day.

But even if the president did drop that one word, a word and a concept, I wager, that 99% of regular folks in this country use, though they will deny it strenuously – we are not born yesterday – he was not stating a “racist” sentiment.  He was being factual.  These are abysmal states that create citizens who are not prizes we need here.

Ironically, when I professored in the People’s Republic of China, my very best students asked me for letters of recommendation so they could apply to the U.S. for graduate school in their chosen fields.  I was delighted to write these letters.  The whey-faced PRC government, however, had other ideas.  They turned down all applicants: why would China choose to release its foremost scholars and most promising professionals to help the United States?

And why, then, it follows, do we need to import a cadre of the low in terms of skills and smarts, longevity, and overall health to lower our achievement, our life stats, our job numbers?  What sane country does that?  And don’t give us those anecdotal tales of one Ph.D. subliming his way into nuclear physics or one earnest striver finishing Johns Hopkins with his specialty of forensic anthropology.

Anecdotes are cute.  They mean close to nothing in the broader picture of overall excellence.  We all know this, even if we’re Democrats and learn to elide common sense whenever at all possible.

But no one is stopping these undaunted invaders from many countries.  (OTMs means Other Than Mexicans, a handy capsule reminder that Central and South America are not the sole-source contributors to our festering Hoovervilles of undocumenteds and skill-frees.)

When I taught in China, I had about 1,000 students among the four colleges at which I was privileged to teach.  All of them, all my college students, male and female, wanted to come to live here.

Few people pick up and move to Somalia, or Chad, or Lesotho, or Senegal, or Guyana, or South Sudan.  Or Haiti.  Or El Salvador.  That is because they are painfully unstable, poverty-stricken, often disease-infected, mismanaged and underdeveloped, sorry countries.

It is no shame to acknowledge that.  The president, as this writer says plainly, has benefited this country, and our people, quite significantly.  If you bake a cake and keep adding salt and flour and vanillin, beyond the recipe for successful pound cake, you get not a fabulous dessert, but an inedible weird mess.

The president’s actions and results are what counts, not any Durbin-alone-detected finger-in-the-air undaintiness of vocabulary.  The president is not saintly.  We do not need dainty.  With madmen in North Korea and ayatollah Iran and countries to the left and right of the equatorial meridians, we do not worship – or ought not worship – the eloquence-meter of the man.

One notices the talking heads focusing relentlessly on the haphazard vocabulary excrescences of the man, not using rational thought to parse his actions and accomplishments.  There is only a tight focus solely on his casual impromptu blue-collar nuttiness, perhaps, if you believe, which I somehow do not, that he actually said what he is alleged to have said.  It is possible that the loquacious and never reliable Sen. Dick Durbin did make up a thunderclap recap of the private meeting the senators held and interpolated his own nasty anti-Trump alchemy in what he recalled of President Trump’s words.  It would not be the first time this sippy-cup mouth has bilged into the public compromised and inaccurate information.

But that the entire media cathedral of caterwaulers should accede to the first-glance interpretation, without considering for a moment that indeed, we have far too many sick, unskilled, ill educated, and sullen non-Americans in this country – when we have no need for further crime, shootings, uninsured car accidents, rabid non-patriots.

Some mouthpieces insist that “some Americans commit crimes.”  Of course.  We regret that.  But it is thin gruel that we need to import more of such miscreants.  All are unneeded and unwanted here.  Resident criminals are a scourge; we don’t need more.

The Haitians are a group of people who may be lovely personally, but in the aggregate, they are less healthy, less skilled, less everything than we need.  They come with nothing.

We are the sugar daddies-to-be, right?

Capping it all, the Democrats consistently elide answering the key question: shouldn’t we provide a mechanism so that day workers can shuttle in then out, so our country is not unreasonably frontloaded?  Why must average taxpayers support, in this damaging and countervailing fashion, the volume of demand by Democrats to elicit a straight Dem party ticket forevermore?

How about swearing all DACA miscreants to a status that will forever forbid these waves of suckerfish from voting?  No votes for any of these interlopers.  Watch the Democrats scream, abandoning interest in the entire universe of DACA noise and pressure.  If they never vote, ever, they can stay, we could decree.

If they can never vote, the truth of “caring and sympathetic Dems” will be revealed.  They won’t give a hoot for these “innocent people just seeking a better life for themselves.”

Who really isn’t sick to death of people being ungrateful nitpicks who cannot say thank you for all the benisons bestowed by this president, no matter his alleged blue tongue?  So what if he said one word you don’t like?

I have been to Haiti, the poorest of all the nations in this hemisphere.  I have been to El Salvador, a corrupt, ungovernable country with rampant crime and gangs.  I have been to over ten countries in Africa, none of them star performers in the GDP and modern conveniences and mindset sweepstakes.

They are indeed horrible places, where corruption and citizens’ fear are the order of the day, where their alleged governments are rife with unloving, greedy, small-minded, and power-lusting so-called leaders.

These are countries whose human products are not, in the main, people we need here – not because they are this shade or that, but because their average standard of skills, education, integrity, and civic virtue is at tremendous variance from what we have for 241 years essayed to raise and keep elevated.

We are not, in the main, uncharitable.  But if your home comfortably seats twenty, if you push the limits of your beds, sofas, carpeting and easy chairs, what happens when an unexpected troupe of fifty more uninvited decide you have a real nice view, and they like your fixin’s?

Ever had a party?  The work of the party isn’t so much the prep and the cooking and shopping for comestibles and beverages.  The real angst of the party is the clean-up.  The guests rarely stick around for the empties and no-ashtray-won’t-stop-their-smoking butts, the wrappers and pizza crusts, or the half-eaten messes on the cake trays.

That’s the U.S.  But we aren’t a night-and-day party, though the uninvited “guests” keep slavering after our table, sleeping on the new couch covers, using up the toilet tissue, leaving an unidentifiable restroom aroma, and wolfing down the leftovers you’d hoped to serve your spouse the next day.

But even if the president did drop that one word, a word and a concept, I wager, that 99% of regular folks in this country use, though they will deny it strenuously – we are not born yesterday – he was not stating a “racist” sentiment.  He was being factual.  These are abysmal states that create citizens who are not prizes we need here.

Ironically, when I professored in the People’s Republic of China, my very best students asked me for letters of recommendation so they could apply to the U.S. for graduate school in their chosen fields.  I was delighted to write these letters.  The whey-faced PRC government, however, had other ideas.  They turned down all applicants: why would China choose to release its foremost scholars and most promising professionals to help the United States?

And why, then, it follows, do we need to import a cadre of the low in terms of skills and smarts, longevity, and overall health to lower our achievement, our life stats, our job numbers?  What sane country does that?  And don’t give us those anecdotal tales of one Ph.D. subliming his way into nuclear physics or one earnest striver finishing Johns Hopkins with his specialty of forensic anthropology.

Anecdotes are cute.  They mean close to nothing in the broader picture of overall excellence.  We all know this, even if we’re Democrats and learn to elide common sense whenever at all possible.

But no one is stopping these undaunted invaders from many countries.  (OTMs means Other Than Mexicans, a handy capsule reminder that Central and South America are not the sole-source contributors to our festering Hoovervilles of undocumenteds and skill-frees.)

When I taught in China, I had about 1,000 students among the four colleges at which I was privileged to teach.  All of them, all my college students, male and female, wanted to come to live here.

Few people pick up and move to Somalia, or Chad, or Lesotho, or Senegal, or Guyana, or South Sudan.  Or Haiti.  Or El Salvador.  That is because they are painfully unstable, poverty-stricken, often disease-infected, mismanaged and underdeveloped, sorry countries.

It is no shame to acknowledge that.  The president, as this writer says plainly, has benefited this country, and our people, quite significantly.  If you bake a cake and keep adding salt and flour and vanillin, beyond the recipe for successful pound cake, you get not a fabulous dessert, but an inedible weird mess.

The president’s actions and results are what counts, not any Durbin-alone-detected finger-in-the-air undaintiness of vocabulary.  The president is not saintly.  We do not need dainty.  With madmen in North Korea and ayatollah Iran and countries to the left and right of the equatorial meridians, we do not worship – or ought not worship – the eloquence-meter of the man.

One notices the talking heads focusing relentlessly on the haphazard vocabulary excrescences of the man, not using rational thought to parse his actions and accomplishments.  There is only a tight focus solely on his casual impromptu blue-collar nuttiness, perhaps, if you believe, which I somehow do not, that he actually said what he is alleged to have said.  It is possible that the loquacious and never reliable Sen. Dick Durbin did make up a thunderclap recap of the private meeting the senators held and interpolated his own nasty anti-Trump alchemy in what he recalled of President Trump’s words.  It would not be the first time this sippy-cup mouth has bilged into the public compromised and inaccurate information.

But that the entire media cathedral of caterwaulers should accede to the first-glance interpretation, without considering for a moment that indeed, we have far too many sick, unskilled, ill educated, and sullen non-Americans in this country – when we have no need for further crime, shootings, uninsured car accidents, rabid non-patriots.

Some mouthpieces insist that “some Americans commit crimes.”  Of course.  We regret that.  But it is thin gruel that we need to import more of such miscreants.  All are unneeded and unwanted here.  Resident criminals are a scourge; we don’t need more.

The Haitians are a group of people who may be lovely personally, but in the aggregate, they are less healthy, less skilled, less everything than we need.  They come with nothing.

We are the sugar daddies-to-be, right?

Capping it all, the Democrats consistently elide answering the key question: shouldn’t we provide a mechanism so that day workers can shuttle in then out, so our country is not unreasonably frontloaded?  Why must average taxpayers support, in this damaging and countervailing fashion, the volume of demand by Democrats to elicit a straight Dem party ticket forevermore?

How about swearing all DACA miscreants to a status that will forever forbid these waves of suckerfish from voting?  No votes for any of these interlopers.  Watch the Democrats scream, abandoning interest in the entire universe of DACA noise and pressure.  If they never vote, ever, they can stay, we could decree.

If they can never vote, the truth of “caring and sympathetic Dems” will be revealed.  They won’t give a hoot for these “innocent people just seeking a better life for themselves.”



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Up North: What's Doing with Illegals on the Other Fenceless Border?


Since Donald Trump has ascended to the White house, there’s been endless talk about the wall, and border security, as a follow-up to his months-long promises to quash the untenable invasion of people from dozens of countries.  There are often, when these issues are discussed, raised eyebrows at the status of our “northern border.”  The answer is that while thousands of illegals are not sneaking in through our northern border, the problem up in Canada is a lesser invasive element: smugglers, dopers, and unsavory trespassers who must be caught and turned back. These are different problems, but still requiring surveillance, monitoring, 24-hour-a-day shifts – tough standards and the latest high-tech equipment and electronics.  I went to see for myself.

I was on an expedition with CIS (Center for Immigration Studies) on a border run, twelve of us in two commodious vans.  My companions were also members of CIS, fascinating, often brilliant in their fields, and never dull – all ages and professions.  We have government types, a three-star general, mining execs, top immigration experts, state committee heads, Heritage people, journos (me and a solid newspaper reporter who’d worked many years in Texas on a major paper), and others.  All are strong Republicans and conservatives – and a pleasure to be with, as I have found over the years and several such border tours together. 

We jinked into and out of Canada and the U.S. as we checked on various border crossings.  In doing so, we traveled some 1,200 miles; took briefings from the U.S. and Canadian border patrols; talked with Canadian Mounties; and Q&Aed with Homeland Security, RESC, deportation and recovery people, and others in order to surveil and research infiltration and departing illegals.

This is my third such expedition – the two priors being along the southern border and Mexico, where we sat in court to observe judges dealing with caught illegals as well as spent time with border patrol outposts and such.  We saw firsthand people waiting until nightfall to cross the fences and triple-barriers with ten-foot-wide sand “moats.”  These are set up to disclose illegal entry footprints as men drop from fencing or walls onto sand and make their way to surrounding grassy areas.  We stopped at dozens of fencing and barriers in sporadic spots – not, of course, the continuous solid fencing or gates or barriers that have been called for repeatedly by Republicans.

We stayed on an Indian reservation, Mohawk Nation at Akwesasne, several days, where I was distressed to see they had not a single computer for patrons.  They had eyes only for one-armed bandits and lackaday cadaverous elderly throwing away their life savings on the cloud-cuckoo-land dream of windfall-winning at those sepulchral silver wish-seducing machines and smoke-shrouded craps tables.

Along the way to our appointed destinations ,two signs evoked laughter: RED LIVES MATTER.  Further down the same rural road, another placard: EVEN BURNT RED LIVES MATTER!

They have everything dedicated to hauling in cash from the on-leave sanity of everyday locals on a long-term bender.  The food in the Mohawk casino was plenteous and decidedly down-home (down-tent?), and drinks were humongous and constant.  Entry tab for the craps table was $25 a chip, a tad steep for most.  We drank juice mixes, did not gamble, and found the whole vista of American Indians recouping shekels from the local whites grimly scenic and histrionic.  Dispiriting.  Much of the attendee population was notably fond of dessert, as well as all the fixin’s of any other food group, judging by the girth of their expansive belts.

In Vermont, we stopped in at an ancient library cum opera house, something out of Harry Potter in its crenellations and 19th-century spires.  Quite charming – but the town standout is that it is where The Beatles reputedly congregated when they were trying to reunite with John Lennon, who, owing to his known use of weed, was denied entry into the States back in the day.  Tough call.

In Vermont, Ben & Jerry HQ was just down the street in one town.  Though we may eat their product, we disagree with them on most lib-lub everything, including U.S. politics, climate, defense, and the rest of the political.

Burlington for the Tall Ships coincided with our landing there the very weekend this regatta dropped anchor, only once every few years.  Bevies of patriotic folk scooting about, boarding this ship or that, centuries-old ships and combat frigates or whatever.  For purchase: Hudson Bay thick green, yellow, red-on-white field stripes on everything, everything you can conceive of. 

It struck me that the source of these quintessentially “American” tchotchkes and dust-collectors was originally American Indian in style, design, execution, and finish. 

The Canadian crossing checkpoints and passport outposts were unfriendly and cool, asking us endless questions, likely because we were six or seven people per van, filled with non-related people from all points in the U.S., without a reasonable rationale for why we were together.  (We had a reason, but the passport control guys did not understand why anyone would care about infiltration or illegal aliens.) 

We were denied entry to Canada, our closest ally, at one outpost coming from the state of Vermont.  One of us had apparently committed some sort of youthful indiscretion; the Canadian border patrol grilled this person for a long time, twice, and discovered whatever it was in the shady past that was deemed a no-no, and boom, we were all denied entry.  Had to turn both vans around and go back.  Only one point in six or seven entry points featured a guy who was welcoming and friendly and just scanned our passports and smilingly wished us well.  All the others were brisk and seriously professional – skeptical of everything we said.  Polite, but no funny business.  

In Ottawa, we popped in to eat at a surefire Hillary fave, a restaurant called…Pinocchio, which evoked a laugh when I mentioned the evident analogy to colleagues.  One immediately stated, quoting a major politico in his past, “When you hear a good line, steal it.”  I amended it to Four Pinocchios for Hillary.  She gets that award often, according to the still fawning media.

Cameras are everywhere, even remote farms and outposts, unused roads, where we were viewing illegal crossover sites (night only – we were in daytime).  Soon, we pulled up to some overgrown, weed-choked back road with STOP in huge letters on a scruffy pole, along with ARRET on the reverse side.  Very soon, two or three guys in border patrol or Mountie insignia would haul up alongside and ask what we were doing and why we were there.  This is in marked contrast to the astringent lack of border patrol presence on the southern border, a direct consequence of former president Obama’s peculiar directives to ignore or overlook insurgent illegals at border points and all along the unmonitored areas of the border states.

We spent considerable time with retired and welcoming border patrol vets, often accompanying us, all of whom were delighted to spend time taking us around to well known alien hotspots they regularly surveiled.  We went to a patrol HQ, where this super-ripped honcho in an olive drab T-shirt and cargo pants, the head guy at the HQ, a pistol slung at his hip, showed us around the patrol realm, their ATVs, the handcuffs, the computers, holding stalls for men, separate quarters for women, and explained the procedures of how long they could hold ’em before they had to fold ’em, feed any detainees every six hours.  All regulated.  By-the-book proper.  The border guys all delighted to see our committed group, traveling with their veteran retired buddies. 

Border police and all their crews have gotten precious little public acclaim or support, so our troupe of a dozen anti-illegal invasion investigators was a standout wherever we stopped in these precincts, among these dedicated and hardworking men and women.  Under the present administration, it is great to report, morale is miles better than under its predecessor.  President Trump has issued outright support and fulsome praise for these hardworking men – professionals often endangered by their jobs, as well as by the shadowy underworld they have to deal with night and day.

Since Donald Trump has ascended to the White house, there’s been endless talk about the wall, and border security, as a follow-up to his months-long promises to quash the untenable invasion of people from dozens of countries.  There are often, when these issues are discussed, raised eyebrows at the status of our “northern border.”  The answer is that while thousands of illegals are not sneaking in through our northern border, the problem up in Canada is a lesser invasive element: smugglers, dopers, and unsavory trespassers who must be caught and turned back. These are different problems, but still requiring surveillance, monitoring, 24-hour-a-day shifts – tough standards and the latest high-tech equipment and electronics.  I went to see for myself.

I was on an expedition with CIS (Center for Immigration Studies) on a border run, twelve of us in two commodious vans.  My companions were also members of CIS, fascinating, often brilliant in their fields, and never dull – all ages and professions.  We have government types, a three-star general, mining execs, top immigration experts, state committee heads, Heritage people, journos (me and a solid newspaper reporter who’d worked many years in Texas on a major paper), and others.  All are strong Republicans and conservatives – and a pleasure to be with, as I have found over the years and several such border tours together. 

We jinked into and out of Canada and the U.S. as we checked on various border crossings.  In doing so, we traveled some 1,200 miles; took briefings from the U.S. and Canadian border patrols; talked with Canadian Mounties; and Q&Aed with Homeland Security, RESC, deportation and recovery people, and others in order to surveil and research infiltration and departing illegals.

This is my third such expedition – the two priors being along the southern border and Mexico, where we sat in court to observe judges dealing with caught illegals as well as spent time with border patrol outposts and such.  We saw firsthand people waiting until nightfall to cross the fences and triple-barriers with ten-foot-wide sand “moats.”  These are set up to disclose illegal entry footprints as men drop from fencing or walls onto sand and make their way to surrounding grassy areas.  We stopped at dozens of fencing and barriers in sporadic spots – not, of course, the continuous solid fencing or gates or barriers that have been called for repeatedly by Republicans.

We stayed on an Indian reservation, Mohawk Nation at Akwesasne, several days, where I was distressed to see they had not a single computer for patrons.  They had eyes only for one-armed bandits and lackaday cadaverous elderly throwing away their life savings on the cloud-cuckoo-land dream of windfall-winning at those sepulchral silver wish-seducing machines and smoke-shrouded craps tables.

Along the way to our appointed destinations ,two signs evoked laughter: RED LIVES MATTER.  Further down the same rural road, another placard: EVEN BURNT RED LIVES MATTER!

They have everything dedicated to hauling in cash from the on-leave sanity of everyday locals on a long-term bender.  The food in the Mohawk casino was plenteous and decidedly down-home (down-tent?), and drinks were humongous and constant.  Entry tab for the craps table was $25 a chip, a tad steep for most.  We drank juice mixes, did not gamble, and found the whole vista of American Indians recouping shekels from the local whites grimly scenic and histrionic.  Dispiriting.  Much of the attendee population was notably fond of dessert, as well as all the fixin’s of any other food group, judging by the girth of their expansive belts.

In Vermont, we stopped in at an ancient library cum opera house, something out of Harry Potter in its crenellations and 19th-century spires.  Quite charming – but the town standout is that it is where The Beatles reputedly congregated when they were trying to reunite with John Lennon, who, owing to his known use of weed, was denied entry into the States back in the day.  Tough call.

In Vermont, Ben & Jerry HQ was just down the street in one town.  Though we may eat their product, we disagree with them on most lib-lub everything, including U.S. politics, climate, defense, and the rest of the political.

Burlington for the Tall Ships coincided with our landing there the very weekend this regatta dropped anchor, only once every few years.  Bevies of patriotic folk scooting about, boarding this ship or that, centuries-old ships and combat frigates or whatever.  For purchase: Hudson Bay thick green, yellow, red-on-white field stripes on everything, everything you can conceive of. 

It struck me that the source of these quintessentially “American” tchotchkes and dust-collectors was originally American Indian in style, design, execution, and finish. 

The Canadian crossing checkpoints and passport outposts were unfriendly and cool, asking us endless questions, likely because we were six or seven people per van, filled with non-related people from all points in the U.S., without a reasonable rationale for why we were together.  (We had a reason, but the passport control guys did not understand why anyone would care about infiltration or illegal aliens.) 

We were denied entry to Canada, our closest ally, at one outpost coming from the state of Vermont.  One of us had apparently committed some sort of youthful indiscretion; the Canadian border patrol grilled this person for a long time, twice, and discovered whatever it was in the shady past that was deemed a no-no, and boom, we were all denied entry.  Had to turn both vans around and go back.  Only one point in six or seven entry points featured a guy who was welcoming and friendly and just scanned our passports and smilingly wished us well.  All the others were brisk and seriously professional – skeptical of everything we said.  Polite, but no funny business.  

In Ottawa, we popped in to eat at a surefire Hillary fave, a restaurant called…Pinocchio, which evoked a laugh when I mentioned the evident analogy to colleagues.  One immediately stated, quoting a major politico in his past, “When you hear a good line, steal it.”  I amended it to Four Pinocchios for Hillary.  She gets that award often, according to the still fawning media.

Cameras are everywhere, even remote farms and outposts, unused roads, where we were viewing illegal crossover sites (night only – we were in daytime).  Soon, we pulled up to some overgrown, weed-choked back road with STOP in huge letters on a scruffy pole, along with ARRET on the reverse side.  Very soon, two or three guys in border patrol or Mountie insignia would haul up alongside and ask what we were doing and why we were there.  This is in marked contrast to the astringent lack of border patrol presence on the southern border, a direct consequence of former president Obama’s peculiar directives to ignore or overlook insurgent illegals at border points and all along the unmonitored areas of the border states.

We spent considerable time with retired and welcoming border patrol vets, often accompanying us, all of whom were delighted to spend time taking us around to well known alien hotspots they regularly surveiled.  We went to a patrol HQ, where this super-ripped honcho in an olive drab T-shirt and cargo pants, the head guy at the HQ, a pistol slung at his hip, showed us around the patrol realm, their ATVs, the handcuffs, the computers, holding stalls for men, separate quarters for women, and explained the procedures of how long they could hold ’em before they had to fold ’em, feed any detainees every six hours.  All regulated.  By-the-book proper.  The border guys all delighted to see our committed group, traveling with their veteran retired buddies. 

Border police and all their crews have gotten precious little public acclaim or support, so our troupe of a dozen anti-illegal invasion investigators was a standout wherever we stopped in these precincts, among these dedicated and hardworking men and women.  Under the present administration, it is great to report, morale is miles better than under its predecessor.  President Trump has issued outright support and fulsome praise for these hardworking men – professionals often endangered by their jobs, as well as by the shadowy underworld they have to deal with night and day.



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Jerrold Nadler Hosts a Town Hell


There were no vegans or vegetarians in the audience of some 500 Upper West Siders gathered to hear Representative Jerrold (Jerry) Nadler’s state of the whatever in New York City’s Brandeis High School on West 84th Street and Amsterdam.

That’s because he served up only the reddest of red meat.

There was little talk of crime, the costly upsurge in illegal aliens, the messes and scandals of the worst NYC mayor, Bill de Blasio, the brand-new 2nd Avenue subway or even the DNC’s favorite pet bête, climate change.

Instead, he spoke for some 45 minutes on how the country’s leadership is lacking in the supremely important ingredient that blankets — for the most part — the most populous U.S. city. Where we’re going, how we can resist and get what we want. What a disappointment DJT is.

Representative Jerrold Nadler has served the 10th Congressional District (D-NY) since 2013. He reflects the deep-blue coloration of his largely Democrat constituents. (Unfortunately for those who have not ceded foreign and domestic rights to brain cells and who distance themselves from the rabid denizens of Gotham.).

Two long queues of 100%-homespun Birkenstock-types lined up the central aisles of the auditorium to ask urgent questions of the slimmed-down Nadler, who underwent lap-band weigh-reduction radical surgery several years ago. He went from a Disney chubby cartoon caboose to a still-relatively chunky restaurant car. But he no longer needs to inhale and inch in sideways to fit through the average doorframe.

Sitting among fiercely agitated Democrats on the fold-up auditorium seats of Brandeis, a high school named after and in honor of the first Jewish Supreme Court Justice, Louis Dembitz Brandeis (1846-1941) appointed to the Supreme Court by Woodrow Wilson in 1916, it was difficult to remain seated. Whenever the terms “Trump” and “fascist” rubbled the air, rather than tamping down the wild applause and whooping from the 450 or so attendees, Nadler did nothing to quell the uproar, instead adding to the temperature by inciting the crowd further with answers that included allusions to fighting and resistance and Planned Parenthood and even possible — Yippee do — Impeachment of the new president.

Never mind for what: these guys don’t need a reason.

He appeared thoughtful in answer to a question about the Syrian attack, responding that such issues ought not be either party’s issue, but a complex of concerns requiring earnest dispassion. He came out, to be sure, on the side of the questioner and most of the blue-blue crowd, by saying he had of course voted against the Iraq War and for the (delusionally failed) Iran nuclear deal that has been flouted as often as the dinner gong is wrung at noon in prison.

In response to a few heated queries about why President Trump has not yet accomplished all his campaign promises, Nadler allowed as how condemning Watergate took a year and a half, and (he did not say President) Trump has been in office fewer than ten weeks, so even to Nadler it’s kind of premature to be demanding everything be accomplished by now.

Other than that, it was a chore to find a single Republican or non-Dem asking a question in the ‘all-welcome’ Town Hall the community had been invited to via email and posted notices in neighborhood grocery stores and retail establishments.

There were no non-Democrats there, aside from your humble servant. Surprise, not.

There was no acknowledgment of anything good about the Trump administration. “Trump is severely understaffed,” noted Nadler. (Whose fault is that, Sen. Schumer, and the crazy-with-choler DNC constituents on the Hill?) “He plans to gut the ACA/ObamaCare,” he threw out to rude noises. Successes in foreign policy? Unnoted. A shift to shoring up local and military security? Forgotten.

Nadler took dozens of questions from the conga line of worried voters of the blue. Though the event was scheduled to end at 8 p.m., it ran longer, still trying to get tp all the men and women who had stood so patiently for a chance to ask their man in Washington. Budget revisit? Government shutdown? Abortion rights? Social Security security?

Socialist Bernie Sanders’ name was invoked in hallowed and sanctified tones as a normal person and part-time saint, evidently. “Socialist?” So what? they chorused.

Several thanked Nadler for fighting for ‘their’ issues. One man announced he was “heartbroken” that so little attention had been paid to the alarming beginning of yet “new quagmires” in the Middle East. Poor baby.

Taking care to wash my hands thoroughly after the session ended, I filled in a comment sheet being flogged by a handsome millennial in the lobby. I wrote how glad I was that we had a President Trump running the country instead of the frightening radicals who sought to find new and easier ways to get “people” to vote in both the primaries and the Big Show.

One would never know that millions of people across the land feel 180 degrees opposite from these sneaker and dirndl-wearing and shamblingly uncosmetic locals.

Following this Town Hell, one was fervently grateful Conservative supports are Out There; sick to upchucking of the malicious looniness of these hardcore crackpot DNC losers. Asked about Kim-Jong Un, Nadler remarked Un was mentally unstable, and followed with, “But so is President Trump: mentally unstable.” Clapping. Agreement.

These West Siders seem to be committed to wrecking the country with their plans to shut down the government over the budget, so long as they get back in power and the “bigoted, fascistic, xenophobic,“ yadda yadda leaves Dodge and puts them back in the driver’s seat.

The greatest dangers to liberty lurk in the insidious encroachment by men of zeal, well meaning but without understanding.

                                Justice Louis D. Brandeis

There were no vegans or vegetarians in the audience of some 500 Upper West Siders gathered to hear Representative Jerrold (Jerry) Nadler’s state of the whatever in New York City’s Brandeis High School on West 84th Street and Amsterdam.

That’s because he served up only the reddest of red meat.

There was little talk of crime, the costly upsurge in illegal aliens, the messes and scandals of the worst NYC mayor, Bill de Blasio, the brand-new 2nd Avenue subway or even the DNC’s favorite pet bête, climate change.

Instead, he spoke for some 45 minutes on how the country’s leadership is lacking in the supremely important ingredient that blankets — for the most part — the most populous U.S. city. Where we’re going, how we can resist and get what we want. What a disappointment DJT is.

Representative Jerrold Nadler has served the 10th Congressional District (D-NY) since 2013. He reflects the deep-blue coloration of his largely Democrat constituents. (Unfortunately for those who have not ceded foreign and domestic rights to brain cells and who distance themselves from the rabid denizens of Gotham.).

Two long queues of 100%-homespun Birkenstock-types lined up the central aisles of the auditorium to ask urgent questions of the slimmed-down Nadler, who underwent lap-band weigh-reduction radical surgery several years ago. He went from a Disney chubby cartoon caboose to a still-relatively chunky restaurant car. But he no longer needs to inhale and inch in sideways to fit through the average doorframe.

Sitting among fiercely agitated Democrats on the fold-up auditorium seats of Brandeis, a high school named after and in honor of the first Jewish Supreme Court Justice, Louis Dembitz Brandeis (1846-1941) appointed to the Supreme Court by Woodrow Wilson in 1916, it was difficult to remain seated. Whenever the terms “Trump” and “fascist” rubbled the air, rather than tamping down the wild applause and whooping from the 450 or so attendees, Nadler did nothing to quell the uproar, instead adding to the temperature by inciting the crowd further with answers that included allusions to fighting and resistance and Planned Parenthood and even possible — Yippee do — Impeachment of the new president.

Never mind for what: these guys don’t need a reason.

He appeared thoughtful in answer to a question about the Syrian attack, responding that such issues ought not be either party’s issue, but a complex of concerns requiring earnest dispassion. He came out, to be sure, on the side of the questioner and most of the blue-blue crowd, by saying he had of course voted against the Iraq War and for the (delusionally failed) Iran nuclear deal that has been flouted as often as the dinner gong is wrung at noon in prison.

In response to a few heated queries about why President Trump has not yet accomplished all his campaign promises, Nadler allowed as how condemning Watergate took a year and a half, and (he did not say President) Trump has been in office fewer than ten weeks, so even to Nadler it’s kind of premature to be demanding everything be accomplished by now.

Other than that, it was a chore to find a single Republican or non-Dem asking a question in the ‘all-welcome’ Town Hall the community had been invited to via email and posted notices in neighborhood grocery stores and retail establishments.

There were no non-Democrats there, aside from your humble servant. Surprise, not.

There was no acknowledgment of anything good about the Trump administration. “Trump is severely understaffed,” noted Nadler. (Whose fault is that, Sen. Schumer, and the crazy-with-choler DNC constituents on the Hill?) “He plans to gut the ACA/ObamaCare,” he threw out to rude noises. Successes in foreign policy? Unnoted. A shift to shoring up local and military security? Forgotten.

Nadler took dozens of questions from the conga line of worried voters of the blue. Though the event was scheduled to end at 8 p.m., it ran longer, still trying to get tp all the men and women who had stood so patiently for a chance to ask their man in Washington. Budget revisit? Government shutdown? Abortion rights? Social Security security?

Socialist Bernie Sanders’ name was invoked in hallowed and sanctified tones as a normal person and part-time saint, evidently. “Socialist?” So what? they chorused.

Several thanked Nadler for fighting for ‘their’ issues. One man announced he was “heartbroken” that so little attention had been paid to the alarming beginning of yet “new quagmires” in the Middle East. Poor baby.

Taking care to wash my hands thoroughly after the session ended, I filled in a comment sheet being flogged by a handsome millennial in the lobby. I wrote how glad I was that we had a President Trump running the country instead of the frightening radicals who sought to find new and easier ways to get “people” to vote in both the primaries and the Big Show.

One would never know that millions of people across the land feel 180 degrees opposite from these sneaker and dirndl-wearing and shamblingly uncosmetic locals.

Following this Town Hell, one was fervently grateful Conservative supports are Out There; sick to upchucking of the malicious looniness of these hardcore crackpot DNC losers. Asked about Kim-Jong Un, Nadler remarked Un was mentally unstable, and followed with, “But so is President Trump: mentally unstable.” Clapping. Agreement.

These West Siders seem to be committed to wrecking the country with their plans to shut down the government over the budget, so long as they get back in power and the “bigoted, fascistic, xenophobic,“ yadda yadda leaves Dodge and puts them back in the driver’s seat.

The greatest dangers to liberty lurk in the insidious encroachment by men of zeal, well meaning but without understanding.

                                Justice Louis D. Brandeis



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