I really don’t give a rat’s patoot. I cannot say it enough or intensely enough. It is the season between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, so things that really matter preoccupy my mind. And nothing on G-d Almig-ty’s Earth matters less to me than does the Ukraine Garbage.
Y’know what matters to me? Widows or divorcees in their 40s, 50s, and up who are trying to find a good guy to remarry. It is easier for guys to introduce themselves to women than it is for a woman to hit on a guy, especially a woman who wants companionship in the most honorable way. But I also care about men who are divorced or widowed in that same age group and who honestly want to find love and a suitable life partner for the next phase of the journey. I ask myself: How many rabbis of congregations know middle-aged singles seeking marriage who would be perfect matches for the singles I know? I ask my colleagues for names, and they are preoccupied with other things. I hear from my non-Jewish clerical friends among pastors and priests that many of their colleagues are similarly self-possessed.
And even more so, the sort of man who gets divorced or widowed in his late 30s or their 40s or 50s or later, but he is a fellow who simply does not have a good income, so lots of women do not particularly care to meet him even though his character is golden, and he is resourceful and yet has prospects. Or the woman so divorced or widowed at that age has custody of three kids, or two, or even only one — so no guy wants to get started with her “baggage.” Or the middle-aged man or woman has a physical ailment, a disease that maybe did not even show up until their 40s or 50s, and now they find that no one wants to marry or even to meet a 50-year-old man or woman with whatever. That matters to me more than the Ukraine Garbage.
Y’know what else matters to me? Well, not that kid from Sweden. Gimme a break. Every time I see her mean grimacing visage on the news, with that “nasty woman” face that only Ashley Judd can match, I think of the movie Network. In that movie, the late Peter Finch plays Howard Beale, a complete nut job who goes on TV every night to the elation of his transfixed live audience, rants and raves for five minutes, then goes into a paralyzing stupor of a trance, and collapses comatose onto the stage, while his audience stands, cheers, and claps wildly like seals. That kid proves that Network not only was entertaining and deserved its best actor, best actress, and best original screenplay awards but also was prophetic. Instead of having fed that poor kid a diet of “Twelve Years to Doomsday” pabulum for 12 school years, she should have been allowed to eat a hot dog and some cotton candy instead of kale and carobs. Give that kid a cookie for G-d’s sakes, a milkshake with a plastic straw. And tell her that, in the greatest of all Three Card Monte scams, while her socialist teachers were frightening her that the adults are stealing the climate from her generation’s future, in fact those tax-and-spend adults have dug their countries into such deep budget deficits and aggregated national debt loads that they instead have stolen her generation’s economic future.
But here’s what does matter to me: People who work hard and have worked hard all their lives to earn an honorable though modest income, only to find themselves challenged in later life as technology changes make their skills obsolete, even as people alongside them who are healthy and capable of working choose instead to game the system to live off government handouts ranging from food stamps to welfare.
It matters to me that many people in my congregation who hail from South Africa, the former Soviet Union, France, and other such places that have become utterly inhospitable to Jews had to wait years upon years, and jump through hoops and hoops, to gain American citizenship legally, or just to get a green card, while others whom we see on the news flood across our border illegally and with complete contempt, get protected by the neverending supply of Obama judges in the states of the Ninth Circuit who prevent every effort to get some lawful control over the immigration mess and then contribute to a situation that raises enormous ethical questions about a society that denies opportunities to its own lawful taxpaying citizens, while steering those opportunities instead towards those who shamelessly boast that they are here illegally.
It matters to me that Jewish men in distinctly “Old World Orthodox” Jewish clothing, associated in the common mind with Hasidic garments, are being beaten up in broad daylight on the streets of Brooklyn, New York, without a peep of concern from the Corrupt Journalist Corps. If the victims were Black or Latino or Lesbian or Gay or Trans, and if they were being beaten up by “straight” Caucasian Christian males, all the nation would be hearing about it. Just think back to how the Corrupt Journalist Corps lied and wailed about those darling teens from Covington Catholic. But the truth vitiates the narrative because it is Jews getting beaten up by people who consistently are members of one of three discreet groups favored by the Intersectionalists. The attackers are captured on camera, and their names are revealed soon enough. So the Corrupt Journalist Corps ignores the stories.
It matters to me that a generation of black men in cities like Chicago, Baltimore, St. Louis, Memphis, Detroit, and other Democrat urban strongholds are living under the gun, with the threat of violence and perilous crime permeating certain parts of their communities. Why do the Corrupt Journalist Corps not report on the national tragedy of these men, of their teens and boys, of their daughters? It cannot be that the disregard stems from the victims being black because we know how the Corrupt Journalist Corps raced to spotlight the Jussie Smollett fraud when a black fellow ostensibly was assaulted and battered on Chicago’s late-night streets. So why the national indifference to so many deaths, especially over weekends, every week in those cities? Because while the victims match the narrative, the perpetrators do not fit the Intersectionalist stereotype. So Black Lives Do Not Matter to the Corrupt Journalist Corps.
But these are things that matter to me. And maybe I am not the only one. It deeply concerns me that colleges today have departed from the academic ideal of teaching and exposing students to conflicting ideas so that fresh young minds can evolve with exciting antipodal thoughts to weigh for themselves, as they learn to think creatively and to weigh a thesis and antithesis to arrive at a synthesis of their own. Instead, today the college student is taught a deconstructed reality where there are no facts but only “my truth.” Under the guise and fraud of “academic freedom,” professors with lifetime tenure force down their students’ throats their leftist mantras, their one-sided reading lists, their politically biased out-of-classroom assignments. As in Communist Reeducation Centers under Mao during his “Cultural Revolution,” we see that American young people are made of the same genetic material as are all others, malleable to the same point of brainwashing, and susceptible to the same pressures of thought-shaming and social isolation. And yet for so many who graduated from America’s great colleges and universities of the 1920s through the 1970s, where else to send a child with a high school degree, and who seeks to further his or her academic education?
Vocational training is fabulous, and plumbers, carpenters, welders, and so many others earn very well and make great lives, but must we completely cede our universities to the tyranny of the Left? Thus, Americans send to college the children whose excellent values their parents have inculcated over 17 years, and those same offspring emerge four years later with starry-eyed fantasies of socialism that works, hate for religion, attracted as flies are attracted by the likes of a hyphenated bartender who got elected to Congress by winning the votes of fewer than 3 percent of her district’s residents (16,000 out of 691,000), by playing her Puerto Rican ethnicity against her opponent’s Caucasian identity to a constituency among whom 57 percent hail from Latin America and 40 percent speak Spanish at home as their primary language. And still she got less than 3 percent. Leveraging her legitimate political manipulation — because all sides have agreed that is how the game is played — to win one of 435 seats, her vote counts less than one-fourth of 1 percent in the House. Yet that alcohol mixer then is elevated by the Corrupt Journalist Corps as the face and voice of a new era, even though she repeatedly generates headlines by making assertions that are so demonstrably wrong and outright false that they would be laughed at if only she had the racial and gender characteristics of her most similar Congressional foul-up, Rep. Steve King of Iowa’s Fifth.
Those things matter to me. I care about families with children who are autistic or otherwise significantly along the Asperger’s spectrum. I care about families where everyone is happy, and all is going well, and then a teenager suddenly starts to change, going through adolescent depression that can turn a family’s world upside down. I care about people wounded at war or by terrorism — whether American boys in Iraq and Afghanistan, or Jewish civilians in Israel murdered by Arabs — who, because they were not murdered outright but survived, get tallied merely as “wounded” when, in fact, their lives have been utterly destroyed. America’s wounded warriors matter to me. Maybe they have lost limbs or eyesight. Maybe they are mired in PTSD. Many are impacted for the rest of their lives, and they still are so young. So that grabs me more than the Ukraine Garbage.
Even in terms of pure legislative politics, I care about the porous border and the unfettered entry of opioids, whether from our south or from China, and what that has done to Americans and their families. And I care the unfettered trafficking across our southern border in women and children for sex slavery and worse. And the entry of the worst kinds of criminals — actually, animals — slithering in, camouflaged among the tens of thousands of regular people entering. I care that Medicare for seniors and all of American health care will be ruined if “Medicare for All” or any of the other socialist gambits ever is implemented, and I care that drug prices are out of reach for many Americans, especially at the time in their lives when their incomes are reduced, even though the pharmaceutical companies charge less for the same drugs in other countries. I care that Iran is trying to wipe American cities off the map and that their nuclear weapons program never stopped, even after Obama and Kerry secretly sent them a planeload of $400 million in cold cash, and ultimately a total of $1.7 billion in cash. I care that European countries still do not pay their fair share towards NATO, towards Ukraine’s role as a bulwark against Russian intrusion, and dare have the temerity to complain about long-overdue American tariffs when they have been tariffing us for so much longer.
I care that the moment Israel left South Lebanon, the weeds were planted for Hezbollah terrorism to take root there, right under the nose of the United Nations “peacekeeping” forces who promised to prevent that. And that the moment Israel left Gaza, the weeds were planted for Hamas terrorism to take root there. And that, with Gaza completely under Hamas control, and with Arafat and his corrupt Holocaust-denying successor Abu Mazen ruling the “Palestine Authority” under dictatorial fiat and without elections, leftists still brainwash college students into believing that the world needs “BDS” to boycott and sanction Israel to solve all the world’s problems. Meanwhile, no one except policy wonks seems to realize that the “Palestine Authority” pays bounties of up to $25,000 per year for life to families of Arab terrorists, having allocated $300 million annually (more than 7 percent of all their revenues) for their “Pay to Slay” program. It matters to me that American taxpayers unknowingly have funded this.
But I do not give a rat’s patoot about the Ukraine Garbage. We have spent too many hours, too many years, going down this same road. After enough viewings, even reruns of Star Trek got boring. When a boy cries “Wolf!” enough times, no one cares anymore. So I just do not care.
The only good that will come of this Ukraine Garbage is that the Corrupt Journalist Corps is being forced, against its will and without its cognition, to peel away, layer by layer, the stark corruption of House Biden. Amid the circus, all feints by House Democrats to intimate that they actually came to do the “People’s Business” have ended. The 116th Congress will leave behind for historians a blank page suitable for doodling. In 2020 — long after the Corrupt Journalist Corps have ended their infatuation with O’Rourke’s skateboarding (“Man, I’m just born to be in it”), Kamala’s cool wardrobe, Booker’s “Spartacus moment,” and all the rest — the faces of the House Democrats that will stare at voters will be those of Pelosi, Schiff, the Squad, Nadler, and Al Green. On these days leading to Yom Kippur 5780, may the Democrats seal their own fate.
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