I count on you, dear readers, to pass this on to others, and please remember to check out the blog (www.jackspotpourri.com) a few times a week so that you don't miss out on its interesting postings, such as:
The Grand Inquisitor
In the eyes and minds of many of those who
oppose Donald Trump, he is neither brilliant nor anywhere close to the unbeatable
negotiator he claims to be. His
“success” is based on his inherited wealth, and his life-long access to
disposable legal talent to keep him out of trouble. Thus, he has managed to play the role of a builder,
a businessman, a showman, a playboy and often an iconoclastic buffoon. His latest part is that of the President of
the United States. Somehow, this man has
appeal to those who are overwhelmed by the hard-to-understand ideas of the
liberals, who often come across to them as snobbish elitists. His supporters usually end up blindly supporting
right wing conservatives, whose dishonest and simplistic programs are something
easy enough for our not-so-bright President and most importantly, his followers,
to comprehend.
That is what the presidency of Donald Trump
looks like to many; those who oppose him hope it will ultimately go away
and the country will recover. Unfortunately,
that is not the case. His “programs”
actually mask something far more sinister than traditional conservatism,
something far darker. Right now, this evil is manifesting itself in the conflict over the House's doomed effort to remove him from office via
the impeachment route. Oversimplifying, the
struggle going on right now comes down to a reworking of the first three
articles of the Constitution.
Supposedly, the Legislative. Executive and the
Judicial branches of our government are designed to work in delicate balance
with one another. Forces exist, however,
which aim at making the Executive branch more powerful than and dominant over
the Legislative branch with the Judicial branch ultimately backing the
Executive branch. This was not the way
it was supposed to be. That’s why we
rebelled against George III. This is the
pattern of autocrats throughout the world who answer to someone other than the
people, the Putins, the Erdogans, the Kims and the Xi’s. This is the role Trump tries to play.
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| Barr, whose malign ideas empower the President |
At the core of this effort is William Barr, the
country’s Attorney General. The January
20 issue of The New Yorker magazine includes a lengthy article on him
which is at best, terrifyingly frightening.
(The author is David Rohde, an executive editor of newyorker.com, whose
forthcoming book, “In Deep: the FBI, the CIA and the Truth about America’s
‘Deep State,’ will be published in April.) CLICK HERE TO READ IT.
Once Trump rid himself of Jeff Sessions, his first Attorney General, who had too much of an independent streak for the President, he turned to Barr, whose way-out ideas seem to coincide with Trump's autocratic dreams.
Once Trump rid himself of Jeff Sessions, his first Attorney General, who had too much of an independent streak for the President, he turned to Barr, whose way-out ideas seem to coincide with Trump's autocratic dreams.
It was no accident that William Barr soft-pedaled
and emasculated the Mueller Report, turning its damning of the Republicans and
the President into a purported exoneration of Trump, and why he joins with the
President in considering the impeachment effort a hoax. And many of Barr’s activities have been aimed
at strengthening the Presidency at the expense of the popularly elected “People’s
House” over on Capitol Hill. His whole
life has been dedicated to this kind of thing.
He attacks by dishonesty, by demanding re-investigations of what has been already thoroughly
investigated, continuing to provide seeds of doubt to those lost souls looking for some
reason to support the President.
Unfortunately, his positions gain legitimacy with many because they are grounded
in his lifetime of participation in supposedly respectable legal, philosophical and religious activities, most significantly involving a subtle and dangerous linkage between that last mentioned area, religion, and government. Read the article!
 |
| Torquemada (Note the resemblance) |
The most frightening thought
that the article left with me was that had William Barr lived five hundred years earlier, instead of Attorney General, his title might have been Grand Inquisitor.
It will take you about half an hour, but
please, read the article. I doubt that
your doing so will put you on anyone’s hit list. Read it. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK HERE.
And if the links don't work for you, just visit:
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/01/20/william-barr-trumps-sword-and-shield
Jack Lippman
Jack Lippman
Here's a short story I wrote back in 2005 for the original "Writers' Group" in our community. It's fifteen years later and I feel it has stood the test of time, so enjoy reading:
Choices
Jack Lippman
“You think we know what is going on back there, don’t you?
I bet you imagine we spend our time looking down at what’s happening,
right? Well, you’re wrong”!
I looked at him and tried to figure out what to say next, but
words came out of my mouth automatically, without my even thinking them out.
“You mean that when you die and go to heaven, you get don’t get
the ability to look back on people back down there who are still alive?”, I
heard myself asking incredulously.
“That’s correct,” he replied, lighting a cigarette and placing
it in a holder. “Yes, we all die sooner or later, but once we do, we
don’t have any more information about the who, the what, the when and the where
of what’s going on back there than we did when we were alive. Only the
Big Guy knows the score, and frankly, none of us gets to see him. In
fact, I don’t even know where he hangs out up here. Actually, we look
forward to running into someone like you who just got here, so you can let us
in on what’s been going on back on Earth.”
I looked at his face carefully. He looked vaguely familiar
but I couldn’t quite place him. I was sure that some divine plan had
resulted in my running into him when I showed up in heaven.
“Do I know you from somewhere”? I asked. “I mean are
you someone who I should remember from when I was alive?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’ve been hanging around just
inside the Gates for a couple of weeks, or months or years … I forget how long,
not that time makes any difference up here … seeing if I could grab someone to
talk to who was just coming up, and you were the first one who ever bothered to
come over when I waved. I guess the others were too confused about
suddenly being dead and all that. I really appreciate your taking the
time to talk to me. But let me introduce myself. I’m Franklin
Delano Roosevelt. I was elected President of the United States four
times, saved the country from going down the tubes and if Harry Truman turned
out to have half the brains I thought he had, I probably led the United States
to victory in the Second World War as well. I died before I could finish
the job, though. I’ve been looking for Harry up here, but I’ve never been
able to find him, or anybody else who died since I did for that matter, until
you were nice enough to stop and talk with me.”
I straightened up, coming to what I remembered from my Army days
as the position of attention, and replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr.
President. I never expected to have the pleasure.”
“Thank you,” FDR replied. “But can you fill me in on what
happened since I passed away.? Last thing I remember is a terrible
headache. We lose track of time up here. How long has it been, and
what has happened since. You’ll have to do it fast, though. because we’re
really not supposed to talk to newcomers like you. If the Big Guy catches
us, there may be a problem.”
I took a deep breath and started talking. “Mr. President,
let me fill you in generally, and if you want me to get more specific on
anything, just interrupt, okay?”
FDR nodded. “That will be fine. You know, come to think
about it, the Big Guy has to know we’re having this conversation, so it must be
okay with him. So start talking before he changes his mind”!
“Well, when you died of a stroke, everyone in the world mourned
your passing. They buried you in Hyde Park, and ultimately, Eleanor and Fala
were buried next to you.”
“That’s nice,” FDR smiled.
“We won the war, but Truman had to drop a couple of atom bombs
on Japan to get it done quickly. You knew about the bombs, of course.”
FDR nodded. “How long ago was that? What’s happened
since then?”
“Well, that was in 1945, and I died early in 2005, so it has
been sixty years since the war ended.”
Roosevelt sucked deeply on his cigarette holder and looked at
me. “Did the world remain at peace?”
“Sort of,” I responded. There have been small wars all
over the place over the years. Mostly offshoots of our “cold” war with
Russia. We had a stand-off situation with the Communists which
never quite resulted in a “hot” war. We did end up fighting their
surrogates and lost 45,000 men in Vietnam. But that’s all history now.”
“I never trusted Stalin, or any of them. I suppose he had
an atomic bomb too, and I can see that’s what caused the stand-off. But
what’s this Vietnam place,?” he asked.
“French Indo-China,” I responded.
“I bet the Frogs pulled out, and left us to solve the problem,
right? I never trusted DeGaulle either.”
“You got it, Mr. President,” I answered.
“But how is the country doing? Who’s President now,”? he
asked.
“Well,” I continued. The President now is a Republican
named George W. Bush. He just got elected to a second term.”
Roosevelt stroked his chin. “Bush?”, he mumbled. “From
Connecticut, maybe? I knew a Prescott Bush, a blue-nose Wall Street Yale
Republican from Greenwich. Nice guy though. Helped me in the
war. Ran the USO for a while.”
“Yes. I believe the President is his grandson. His
father, Prescott’s son, also was President for a term.”
“From what you are saying, son, it looks like the same crowd
which we threw out in 1932 is back again. Have they gotten rid of the New
Deal?”
“They’re trying, Mr. President. They’re trying very hard.”
His eyes twinkled. “Tell me more, please.”
“Well, they’re screwing around with Social Security and Medicare
for one thing, and they’re running up deficits like you can’t imagine.”
“Republican bastards,” FDR mumbled. “What’s Medicare?”
“Health insurance for retirees on Social Security,” I explained.
“Great,” FDR chuckled. “I had that in the back of my
mind. Glad to see that it happened. I certainly hope they don’t
mess it up too badly. But look, I’ve been asking you a lot of
questions. The Big Guy won’t let this conversation go on forever, so go
ahead, ask me something, if you want to.”
“Okay, Mr. President,” I continued, taking a deep breath. “Remember
during the war when Albert Einstein, Bernard Baruch and some others were
telling you about what Hitler was doing to the Jews in Europe? By the
way, Mr. President, Hitler committed suicide in his bunker as the Russians
moved into Berlin. Thought you would like to know that. But as I
was saying, remember how they asked you to do something to stop the Holocaust?”
“Too bad we didn’t catch Adolph alive, but this Holocaust thing,
what’s that,?” Roosevelt asked, looking puzzled.
“Mr. President. After all was said and done, the Nazis
murdered six million Jews, mostly in gas chambers. That period has become
known as the Holocaust. And many Americans wonder if you knew about it,
and why you did nothing to stop it. And there was a ship, the St. Louis,
with Jewish refugees which wasn’t allowed to dock in the United States.
It was sent back and many of the passengers died in the gas chambers. How
did you allow that to happen?”
FDR’s face turned ashen. “I did indeed know what was going
on. I didn’t do anything about it though. It was a matter of
priorities. If I had it to do over, I would have done it
differently. I would have let the St. Louis dock in Miami. I would
have bombed the railroad tracks leading to the extermination camps. But I
didn’t.”
Roosevelt looked downward and continued, his voice now
trembling. “It was a matter of priorities. Nobody is perfect. And
now I see why the Big Guy has let this conversation take place. He
wants me to know that I didn’t arrive here with as clean a slate as I thought I
did, and that he remembers, and will never forget, what I chose not to do while
I was still alive.”
Roosevelt turned to me and raised his hand to his
forehead. “Excuse me. I have this terrible headache, and I want to
close my eyes and lie down.”
And suddenly there were clouds and fog and smoke and a funny
aroma filled the air, and FDR wasn’t there any longer, nor was I.
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