We had a couple calls to action on this week’s show.
Opioid Law Reform
Here’s the link to Rep. Munson’s fact page on opioid law reforms and his “intractable pain” bill, HF3746, which will reform the blunt-force abuses in MInnesota’s prescription opioid laws. The current law forces professionals – doctors, physician assistants, dentists, pharmacists and even veterinarians – to be far, far too cautious about helping people with long-term, intractable pain.
Please – call your legislators and have them support HF3746 (and its upcoming companion in the Senate).
As the Southwest News reports, city governments in the southwest metro are getting ready to try to deal with the plague that no DFL-dominated city government dare name; crime descending upon them via the light rail.
The article explains the basics.
I thought this bit here was particularly interesting (and I’ve added all emphasis):
Metro Transit communications and outreach manager Sam O’Connell echoed [Metropolitan Council Chair Charlie] Zelle’s sentiment that the increased disturbances on public transit are signs that the light rail, now 16 years old, has become a part of the community fabric. Addressing these problems will take a multi-pronged approach, she added.
“Part of this is just a maturation of the system,” she said. “I don’t know if there’s ever a silver bullet that will reduce all of this altogether.”
Catch that?
Crime, vandalism, blight, fear, predation – they aren’t signs of decay anymore.
They’re signs of “maturation” into the “community fabric”.
In some future edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, this quote may wind up as part of the definition of the phrase “Racism (classism, whatever) of low expectations”.
“Gun makers are softening their image to ‘put a better face in front of people’ & ‘ramp up its appeal to women, children and members of minority groups,'” Igor Volsky, executive director of gun-control activist group Guns Down America, said in a tweet. Volsky, who is also a former vice president of the Center for American Progress, was commenting on a New York Times story about firearms marketing.
“That’s right,” Volsky continued. “Gun makers are increasingly advertising to WOMEN, CHILDREN & MINORITY COMMUNITIES. Firearm industry realizes that to survive into the future it must ‘broaden its reach beyond the aging white men who have been its core customers’—and so they’re now trying to sell their products to other demographics. This is incredibly dangerous.”
Imagine an executive in any other field bemoaning the diminished capacity of “WOMEN CHILDREN & MINORITIES” around any other product…
If there’s a figure anywhere in the liberal media that makes the likes of the late Ed Schultz, or Chris Matthews, or most of the host of “the view””, seem intelligent, rational and human, it’s Cenk Uygur, impresario of the “Young Turks” – sort of a “MinnesotaReformer” for loud, entitled people.
They are, naturally, progressive to a geometric fault.
Including, it seem, in terms of rank hypocrisy. Uygur, It was a knee-jerk supporter of public sector unions and the national $15 an hour minimum wage for mere public sector employees…
Earlier that day, a Twitter handle claiming to represent TYT employees had announced on the social media platform their intention to form a union. In the staff meeting, the network’s co-founder and influential host, Cenk Uygur, urged employees not to do so, arguing that a union does not belong at a small, independent outlet like TYT, according to two workers who were present. He said if there had been a union at the network it would not have grown the way it has.
Huh. You don’t say?
His talk ― at times emotional, the staffers said, with Uygur throwing his papers to the ground at one point, and chastising an employee ― seemed to contradict the progressive, worker-first ethos that TYT broadcasts to its millions of lefty followers. Jack Gerard, who is acting as the company’s chief operating officer as Uygur runs for Congress in California, told the staff they were not discouraging unionization.
But the message from Uygur was clear ― and, to at least some staffers, discouraging.
Not nearly as discouraging as…oh, I dunno, realizing your’re out of collect, paying of $200K in student debt, and still working for Cenk Uygur.
I often look at the responses of the liberals when they talk about the homeless and the addicted. They say, “if we can just get them a house, their life will change.” Or “if we just pay them more for menial work, they’ll turn themselves around.” Or, “we just need to make everything free, people will take what we’re selling.”
I always counter with the statistics of mental illness and how many on the streets are mentally ill and while they may not choose to live without shelter, they choose to not take care of themselves, which leads them to homelessness, addictions, and joblessness. They choose to not allow professionals to give them medicine that will normalize their thoughts, allowing them to function in society.
I was surprised when the new Sam Francisco mayor had taken the stance that getting homeless people off the street involved the idea of getting those who are mentally ill a court appointed conservator that would be responsible for enforcing treatment. That actually is a reasonable idea. As is President Trump’s suggestion that bringing back institutions would help those who have burned out their family and are a danger to themselves or others.
Of course, no one is allowed to agree with Trump, so NAMI wrote a response, saying early intervention and better access to care is what is needed, not institutions.
This man was civilly committed. He was deemed to have an illness that would likely make him a danger to himself or others. But, not deemed appropriate for hospitalization. Instead, he was “connected with various services provided by county management.”
Oh, and he also had 2 pending criminal cases against him.
I can’t help but also think of the 5 year old thrown from the 3rd floor of Mall of America last year. He was thrown by a homeless mentally ill man whose family was burned out and who refused treatment time and again.
The 5 year old survived by the grace of God, but is scarred for life. Last night, a woman in St Paul lost her life. A two year old may or may not have witnessed whatever happened.
Mental illness is common, and there is actually plenty of access and support for people who want help. In fact, in both of these cases, they were supposed to be getting help, but refusing. And it is certainly a right to refuse, but at some point, if a person is a danger to society, they need to lose that right.
At least two victims and their families would be living completely different lives right now if we stopped worrying about the feelings of those who don’t care enough about themselves to get treatment.
It’s truly an area where the people who are supposed to be taking care of the mentally ill have, themselves, gone insane.
I”m an uncompromising proponent of 2nd Amendment rights.
And so it was with horror that I saw the MNGOP last week attacking the Dorr Brothers – the purveyors of “Minnesota Gun Rights”, as well as a pro-life and pro-Trump group – last week.
One could call it defamation – saying something untrue about someone, that’ll harm their reputation in the community, with malicious disregard for the facts.
I’ve publicly urged the Dorr Brothers (Facebook link and on the air) to take their case against the MNGOP to court, to lay the record out in public – the financial records proving their nonstop advocacy for gun rights – and forever shut down the allegationsthattheyare just a bunch of huckstersfleecing gullible Minnesotans with aggressive rhetoric (always aimed at pro-gun Republicans, almost never at anti-Gun Democrats.
I’m not sure if they took my advice and filed those papers yet.
But while I wait for word, I thought I’d point out the toll that this effort has taken on the Dorrs. They posted this yesterday:
Those personal attacks are really a sign of desperation.
Like this one, before the 2019 legislative session, aimed at Bryan Strawer and Rob Doar, the director and lobbyist for the MN Gun Owners Caucus, respectively.
Again. Here’s hoping the Dorrs take their case to court, and throw those books open, to defend their legacy of rigorous integrity.
The DFL’s two big gun grab bills – HF8 (Universal Gun Registration) and HF9 (Red Flag Confiscation Orders) are back for their second round in the biennium.
We expect the session to gavel in at 3:30 PM, but this may change.
IF YOU CAN MAKE IT, WE NEED YOU THERE.
WHERE: State Capitol – House Chamber (look for House Gallery entrance, 3rd floor)
WHEN: Arrive by 2:45PM to obtain a good seat. There is seating for around 80 people. There is a lot of standing room only space.
The bills will die in the Senate, of course. But it’s good that the House knows who’s really going to turn out this fall. There are a lot of mid-term DFLers from Trump districts who especially need to get the message.
The party of James Hodgkinson, of “Anti”-Fa, of Eric “Nuke The Gun Owners” Swalwell, of “Fight in the Streets” (VP candidate Tim Kaine and Loretta Lynch ) and punching teenage girls (Woody Kaine) and grownup girls (Keith “Thumper” Ellison) and fantasies (Madonna, Snoop Dogg, Bow Wow, MN DFL operative William “Guillotine” Davis ) and dramatizations (Kathy Griffin) about killing Republicans, of multiple dramatic and “comedic” productions featuring the violent deaths of Republicans (including Dubya and The Donald), of co-opting the same of a movement that killed “the enemy” with guns and bombs and molotov cocktails (“The #Resistance”)…
… which has just spent three years calling President Trump “literally Hitler”, and lying about his support for neo-Nazis at home (the Charlottesville slander) and his support from fascist to Brod (the fictitious Putin link”)…
… is about to nominate a candidate who literally, actively, proudly, truthfully supports people directly responsible for 100 million murders in the past century.
This is almost too far beyond satire for Berg’s Seventh Law.
The dream was always the same. Set in a gray miasma straight out of Ingmar Bergman, there was not so much sight as sound; an endless clanking, like the way the radiators in her parents house used to clank and bang on the first cold day of fall, when she was a child. A shrill whining, like the badly-worn brakes on the bus she used to take to work. And behind it all, a dim chorus that sounded like hundreds of people chanting in the distance; “Si, se puede! Si, se puede! Si, se puede…”
Her eyes blinked open, alighting on the first rays of dim winter morning sun filtering through the windowshades onto the wall, reflecting wanly off the indifferently-white paint on the wall, welcoming Julia to another day.
Her foot stuck out from under the quilt – but just for the moment for Julia to register that Christ, it’s cold out here. She could barely remember feeling warm, at least not in this apartment – she shuddered at the thought of the electrical bills she was paying, had always paid, ever since 2021 when she got her first job out of college in time for the “Green New Deal” to pass. Bundle up for the planet, she thought, laconically remembering the slogans that first winter, four years ago.
She shook it out of her head and pulled her foot back under the quilt.
She heard a brief “snork” of a cough from the other half of the bed. Her boyfriend of six months, Ian Joshua Kohlman, was still sleeping. Julia thought about curling up closer to him for a little warmth, before ruefully remembering that he – who graduated the previous spring from the U of M School of Social Justice and Victimology Studies, the first class to go all the way through their master’s degree completely free of tuition, and had just been laid off from his job as an associate barrista, just wasn’t very warm. She looked at his scraggly mop of hair, gathered into a greasy man-bun at the back of his scalp, and thought “I have no idea where we’re going to make up the $15 an hour we’re losing now“, before sadly wanly hoping he’s have better luck looking for a job in his field, and life’s passion, of social justice activism through performance art, and silently doubting it, noting how little use she’d gotten from her free birth control in the past two months – partly from Ian’s depression, which his friends told Julia had always been a facet of his personality, but had gotten worse as his job search dragged on and on.
Slowly, the sounds started filtering in from the units above and below the third-floor appartment in southwest MInneapolis that Julia and Ian shared. The neighbors downstairs were chasing their three (she guessed) children around trying to get them ready for school The neighbors on the other side of the bedroom wall were apparently having a spirited argument about their toothbrushes. And the neighbors above, apparently, were Ukraining clog dancers doing their morning warmups. A couple of teenagers were bellowing at each other in the hallway outside. Through the frosty bedroom window looking out over Queen Street, an MTC bus stopped for a passenger in a wheelchair – the steady beep beep beep beep beep beep of the alarm shaking the last of her 6:30 AM cobwebs away.
Julia lay for a moment, before realizing the day wasn’t going to live itself. She mentally counted down “Three – Two – One“, and slid out from under the covers, her slim figure draped in long underwear and a sweatshirt against the cold that the quilt could never quite smother. She grabbed a top, some underwear and a pair of jeans from her closet, and two-stepped to the bathroom, shivering, turning on the water, putting her hands underneath the unsatisfying stream, waiting for just enough warmth to justify jumping out of her bed-clothes quickly, in time to warm up a bit before the stream of luke-hot hot water from the unit’s “eco-friendly” water heater turned luke-cool, then cold. She felt her opporunity, and showered and washed her hair quickly.
But not quick enough, the stream turning uncomfortably frigid as she rinsed. She gritted her teeth and finished before jumping out, drying off as fast as she could, shivering, and getting dressed.
She stepped back into the bedroom and grabbed her coat, seeing the “Che Guevara” t-shirt that, she wistfully remembered, Ian had been wearing when they met.
“No time for regrets“, she thought, pulling on her stocking cap and walking through the kitchenette. “The sink is dripping, the fridge is fridging even less well than usual, and the window insulation is leaky“, she thought, grabbing a cricket and quinoa bar, wondering what they were getting for their $1,800 a month for the one-bedroom apartment.
She fished the keys out of her purse and walked out into the hallway, the teenagers still bellowing nonsense at each other from opposite ends of the hall, and walked to the elevator, stabbing the button with her finger as the teenagers obscene chatter got faster and louder. Finally, the door opened, and she got into the car going down.
A man from a higher floor was standing in the corner of the elevator car. A vague feeling of unease tugged at the corner of her consciousness – the man, in his fifties, always smelled a little of booze and decay, and always left her feeling uneasy – a feeling that, unbeknownst to her, was utterly justified, as he leered at his young neighbor, not really worrying in his somewhere-between-drunk-and-hung-over haze if she noticed or not, as the elevator – which, although ten years old, was already showing its age – lurched to a stop on the first floor. Julia stepped out quickly, turning to walk to the lobby.
She paused for a moment, pulling her wool cap, scarf and gloves, the smells of the lobby – cooking, cigarettes and a faint waft of urine tickling the edges of her senses as they did every morning. “This was supposed to be a nice building”, Julia though – and then remembered, “It is“.
She looked out the glass door, feeling the chill radiating into the lobby from the murky dawn-ish outdoors as the stiff February breezed pushed against the building’s facade, trying to exert mother nature’s control over the high-density urban landscape. Julia thought about taking a sick day, briefly – but the reflection of the guy from the higher floor gave her the motivation to push through.
There’d been a snowstorm three days before. Julia trudged through the snow, on the sidewalk that hadn’t been shoveled since the snowstorm two days earlier. The sky was still twi-dawn dark, but promised to be clear and mercilessly post-blizzard cold, Julia though, walking down Queen to get to the bus station, walking through the single-file groove the other people on the street had left yesterday, packed and a little treacherous, walking to the Yellow Line station.
She crossed the street without thinking too hard about it – there were few cars in this inner-city neighborhood, and the little glorified lawn mowers that a few people did have, jammed into the limited parking on the “new urbanist” street, didn’t fare well on streets that hadn’t seen a snowplow yet, and likely wouldn’t – and walked up the long ramp to the train platform, which was still slick and icy from the storm, “and most likely will be until the sun melts it in a few months“, Julia thought. A couple of drunk men were loudly arguing down at the other end of the platform, as about a half dozen other people huddled against the cold, hoping to be left alone.
“Yellow Line – next train six minutes” said the LED sign, the one of three on the platform that still worked. “Great“, Julia thought, as she wedged into the plexiglas shelter and hit the “heat” button, her face briefly tilting upward, hoping for a ray or two of warmth from the french-fry-warmer style light that blinked on above, discretely trying to keep the two loud drunks just inside the corner of her vision. “Every f****ng morning“, she thought, letting the thought tail off, silently trying to scrape a piece of cricket bar off her teeth with her tongue. The platform had been getting worse and worse, even in this “good” neighborhood of southwest Minneapolis – but a wave of muggings, assaults, rapes and general bad behavior had followed the completion of the Yellow Line a few years earlier.
“Still, better than trying to drive ,or waiting on a bus“, she thought, shuddering at what some of her former co-workers had paid for parking downtown, back when there was still parking downtown.
She startled from her reverie as a Yellow Line train rounded the bend and pulled up to the platform. She pressed the door button, and the door slid open. Julia stepped inside…
…and looked, in vain, for a seat. They were all full – about half with commuters, huddled up, grateful to finally be out of the cold for the next 20 minutes; the rest with the same crowd of homeless men, sleeping, sometimes across a couple of seats. One, half-awake, smoked a cigarette, the smoke causing Julia’s throat to itch and stifle a cough. She grabbed a hold bar and held on, waiting for the train to lurch forward.
But the lurch didn’t come. The drunks stood in the doorway at the other end of the car, carrying on their argument as the wave of cold washed back over the packed commuters, the shapeless slurry of words lost in the muted wave of groaning before the drunk stepped back to the platform.
The train finally lurched forward. A mostly-empty vodka bottle rolled down the aisle – from the smell of the car, much of it had already spilled.
But for the next 90 seconds, until the train got to its next stop, there’d be a little warmth – broken eight times by the doors sliding open at each stop as the Yellow Line wended its way downtown. As the train crossed a freeway bridge, it ground to a halt. “Not again“, Julia groaned, as commuter heads shook with resigned frustration.
Finally, the train pulled into the Warehouse District station. A short, sharp eddy of wind greeted Julia as she stepped onto the platform, stripping away the little coccoon of smoky, vodka-tinged warmth of the train, as she walked toward her office, the chilly staccato of her gait mirrored by the other commuters, and contrasting with the tentative amble of the homeless and the hung over.
“Haaaaaay, you got a dollar? My sister’s car broke down, and her daughter is with her out on the freeway”, a panhandler slurred as Julia walked down the ramp.
“Sorry, no cash”, she murmured through er scarf as she moved, just a little faster.
It was a Monday. Julia, a web designer, had a big project presentation at 2PM. It was going to be a long morning.
The idea that identity politics is at odds with liberalism has become conventional wisdom in parts of the Americanpoliticalandintellectualelite. Harvard psychologist Steven Pinker hascondemned contemporary identity politicsas “an enemy of reason and Enlightenment values.” New York Times columnist Bari Weissargues thatthe “corrupt identity politics of the left” amounts to a dangerously intolerant worldview. AndNew York magazine’s Andrew Sullivanclaims the “woke left” seems “not to genuinely believe in liberalism, liberal democracy, or persuasion.” This line of thinking ispractically the founding credoof the school of internet thought known as theIntellectual Dark Web.
It is also deeply, profoundly wrong.
If you are deeply, profoundly progressive, anyway. . “Liberalism” and “progressivism” intersect only occasionally, if by “liberalism” you mean any of the traits that’ve made Western Civilization free, inclusive and prosperous in a way that is utterly anomalous through human history, which “progressives” most certainly do not.
What these critics lambaste as an attack on liberalism is actually its best form: the logical extension of liberalism’s core commitment to social equality and democracy, adapted to address modern sources of inequality. A liberalism that rejects identity politics is a liberalism for the powerful, one that relegates the interests of marginalized groups to second-class status.
Grotto and Arlington is one block from the rec center, where I know for a fact they have entertainment programs for youth. It’s also a couple of blocks from my house, on the east side ofComo Park.
This is not Frogtown. This is a good part of town. But now we have feral youth traveling in packs attacking citizens. And the police can do nothing about it?
When will Reverend Nancy send her hordes of orange shirt supporters into the streets to protect the elderly and frail in St Paul?
Because the longer she waits, the more likely some armed citizen will deprive the world of a future president, astronaut, or scientist destined to cure cancer, who was just beginning to turn his life around when it was tragically cut short by innocently participating in….. you know the rest.
Joe doakes
Well, the Reverend Nancy is out of the picture; she’s moved onto electing the candidates who caused the problem.
But the larger point? At some point, “at risk youth” are going to wind up coming up against citizenry who just aren’t feeling it.
And the demagoguery – on the left, which will have to reckon with claims that it supports crime in urban blight – will be out of this world.
I’ve lived in Saint Paul for a little over three decades.
I’ve seen worse crime than the current wave. It was much worse in the mid-eighties.
One thing I don’t remember was the DFL’s frantic swishing between pollyannaism and alarm when it comes to crime.
For example, when the subject is law-abiding citizens’ Second Amendment rights, we’re told there’s a wave of violence. But when it’s…well, we just don’t know who it is, do we – then you’re raciss for bringing it up, because there’s no crime and also shut up.
Thing is, there’s crime. Five violent armed robberies in two days, earlier this week, including this episode:
A 56-year-old St. Paul man said he was out for a morning jog Monday near Como Lake when a group of teenagers came up behind him and threw him into a snowbank – all for his iPhone. He asked FOX 9 to conceal his identity for safety reasons.
“You hear about this stuff and, ‘it’s not going to happen to me,’ and it happened. I mean, I could have died,” he said.
Some of the images from his head injury are graphic, but he wants them shared so people understand how serious this problem is.
“They were punching me and kicking me and then using the billy club on my body,” he said.
Surrounded by the suspects, the victim said he tried to fight back. Eventually, they took his iPhone and hopped into a car that police say was stolen and left.
“They did beat me pretty good. I got a bunch of staples in my head and the reason I’m doing this interview is so people can be more concerned of these vicious acts going on,” he said.
Waiting to see how and why those five victims are “white supermacist” for acknowedging being attacked.
Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison confesses, de facto, to spending the past three years under a rock:
I have never seen @BernieSanders supporters being unusually mean or rude. Can someone send me an example of a “Bernie Bro” being bad. Also, are we holding all candidates responsible for the behavior of some of their supporters? Waiting to hear.
So many comebacks possible – and the conservative Internet delivered a lot of them. So much so that it modified the dictum to “never look at the comments”.
Last June, the authors, Stanton Glantz and Dharma Bhatta of the University of California San Francisco, stated in the original study that vaping and smoking cigarettes posed a similar risk, while doing both at the same time was an even more dangerous option. Following its publication in the summer, the peer-reviewed research was referenced by major news organizations, including CNN, Yahoo News, and USA Today.
In a statement explaining the retraction, editors at the Journal of the American Heart Association (JAHA) expressed worry that the study may have been based on misleading data.
“The editors are concerned that the study conclusion is unreliable,” they wrote.
JAHA pulled the paper after Brad Rodu, a tobacco control expert at the University of Louisville, noted that many of the vapers Glantz and Bhatta analyzed for the study were also current or former smokers. Rodu argued that there was a possibility that the use of combustible cigarettes is what made them more likely to suffer heart attacks
I bring this up not so much to troll the city full of puritan prohibitionists who’ve been hacking away at vaping in legislatures and city councils around the state – although I am.
Mostly, though, it’s about the wave of virtue-signaling third-rate “progressive” “thinkers” who affect “evidence-based” as their latest intellectual accessory – and don’t get the the sarcasm when you point out that the Flat Earth is “evidence-based”, if your evidence is flawed enough,.
The similarities in demographics in population between Virginia and Minnesota are inescapable. Both states are large, solid red expanses of land and people, surrounding small, densely populated democrat dominated Metropolitan areas.
And of course, both states have Democratic parties prone to going wild on orgies of spending and power grabbing whenever they get unfettered power. As the Democrats did in Virginia over the past year, driving a wave of “progressive” legislation pretty much across-the-board, but especially focusing on gun control.
And watching Virginia’s Democrats, it’s not hard to think that they might actually be a little bit calm and restrained compared to the ones we have in Minnesota, the party of Ryan Winkler and Alondra Cano and Melissa Melissa and Ilhan Omar.
It’s hard to imagine what that crew would stop at if they got unrestrained power Dash say, by flipping the Senate this fall, giving them raw, unfettered access to all the money and all the power.
This isn’t problem just for Second Amendment advocates, of course.
But Second amendment advocates are among the best organized to do something about it; I’ve been telling conservative groups for a decade that they need to learn something from the Second Amendment movement nationwide.
Four Minnesota counties – Clearwater, Marshall, Roseau and Wadena – have declared themselves “sanctuaries” for the Second amendment (some choose the term “dedicated” to avoid confusion with immigration issue – the effect is entirely the same). It’s not just a symbolic statement; the resolutions include language about litigation against intrusive legislation, as well as well as demurrals from enforcing unconstitutional laws.. Resolutions have been introduced in three more counties – and probably a few dozen more have some degree of activity on the subject.
Yours could be one of them, if you live in Minnesota; in fact, you could be the one to get things going in your county. The Gun Owners Caucus has a list of resources right here, as well as a list of sanctuary/dedicated county groups around the state.
Because what better way to show the DFL; This Is What Power-Drunk Overreach gets you.
Has it only been four years that the “Reverend” Nancy Nord Bence took over as the ‘Executive Director” and one of about five actual “members” of “Protect” Minnesota?
Sometimes it seems like so much longer.
Even by Twin Cities “progressive” standards, the “Reverend” Nord Bence blazed a trail of intellectual and moral depravity in which she stood nearly alone.
Am I being hyperbolic?
Oh heavens no:
She accused the MN Gun Owners Caucus of inviting “White Supremacists” to speak at their annual rally (and this was before Big Left accused everyone of “white supremacy”)
She accused the Caucus of involvement in the firebombing of the Dar Al Farouk mosque.
LIed about the goings-on at the Senate hearings in HIbbing a few weeks ago
…and was basically such a font of fodder that not only did I give her her own permanent tag, but she was granted a nearly-personal category on this blog.
From that first day to today, the “Reverend” Nord Bence has never – not once – made a statement about guns, gun laws, gun owners, gun crime, or anything about the Second Amendment that is simultaneously substantial, original and true. Her constant “false witness” about her law-abiding fellow citizens should be regarded as an abomination by her erstwhile denomination, the ELCA.
I said “should”.
But all good, loathsome-yet-risible things must come to an end. The “Reverend” is picking up and moving along:
Now, if it’s like most posts on the “Protect” MN facebook page, there’d be a better than even chance the post would be wrong, and quickly retracted, even if it weren’t a lie.
But it’s apparently as legit as anything “Protect” MN ever actually writes. The “Reverend” is going to lend her, um, “talents” to getting Democrats elected.
There are only two things we can be sure of:
Any campaign she’s involved in, outside safe urban areas (and by “safe”, I mean both for the DFL and for matronly unarmed white women to walk around in), is doomed.
“Protect” MN will hire someone even more radical to replace Nord Bence.
Adios, Nancy. You are a liar, and you never packed the gear to stand up to a rational debate, but…
…well, that pretty much covers it. Swirl away down the soilpipe of history, you sad lying hag.
I heard this – or a piece just like it, and which may well have been a rerun – on NPR on Sunday afternoon – explaining Bernie Sanders’ putative popularity among young latinos.
And I found it pretty much chilling, to be honest.
Shawn Navarro, a 33-year-old Sanders volunteer in Las Vegas, refers to his favorite presidential candidate as “Tío Bernie.”
“He reminds us a lot in the Latinx community of your grandpa, or your tío,” explained Navarro after a recent Spanish-language campaign event in Nevada. “He’s kind of stern, a little grumpy at times. But, at the same time, you really know he’s looking out for you.”
Latinos, Navarro says, are tired of listening to talking points from Democrats who come to their neighborhoods, “speak a little bit of Spanish” and “eat tacos,” but then don’t deliver any real results. It’s why, he says, exit polls found that Donald Trump and Mitt Romney, “who was far less offensive,” performed roughly equally with Latinos in the 2016 and 2012 elections.
Latinos come from a part of the world that’s been fairly ravaged by socialists painting themselves as “family” for right around two centuries.
Outstate Republican legislators today unveiled a proposal to tackle urban crime, months after they first started planting political seeds about the hazards of Minnesota’s cities.
And Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey didn’t seem thrilled with the presentation.
Mayor McDreamy responded with a bit of cheap theatrics, lavishly staged for the eager cameras of the Twin Cities TV stations, as was thoroughly predictable.. I’m not going to plug his little tantrum here – read the link to article, in the “Minnesota Reformer”, which is to the 2020 is what the “Minnesota Monitor” was to the 2000s.
The “Reformer” being a bought and paid for “progressive” propaganda site, I’m sure its audience let this next bit – which I will emphasize – slide without much thought. Kind of like to do their politics. To wit:
GOP legislators — not a single one of whom represent either St. Paul or Minneapolis — made clear long before the session started that they were prepared to leverage urban crime to gain support in the suburbs…
So – if you don’t live in Minneapolis or St. Paul, you have no business talking about policy for either city.
Naturally, that isn’t going to be applied to people from the metro area imposing land-use, mining and gun control policies on the rest of the state. That’s just crazy talk.
When they left makes good on its goal of getting rid of the electoral college, they won’t even have to bother insulting people from outside the urban core.
…, despite the fact that violent crime in both cities has dropped since the early 1990s, in line with national and state trends. Reports of violent crimes reached a 28-year low in Minneapolis in 2018, and an all-time low in St. Paul in 2019,Minnesota Reformer previously reported.
So – when the subject is urban crime, the cities are safe Dash but when the subject is law abiding citizens with guns, then the streets are running red with blood?
The problem, of course, is that the Democrat base can’t be bothered with , and most cases has never learned, the sort of critical thinking that would allow them to read this sort of twaddle and think “who do these people think we are? Idiots?”
[1[ It’s come to my attention that Twitter links frequently disappear from some browser. Technicians are working on it. And by “working on it”, I mean “Jeez all friday, WordPress, did you ever screw the pooch with this last bunch of patches”.
