Friday, September 7, 2018

What Jane Knew




The latest nine-day wonder in TrumpWorld (or, per John Kelly via Bob Woodward, “Crazytown”) is the anonymous New York Times op-ed by a personage the paper identified only as “a senior official in the Trump administration whose identity is known to us and whose job would be jeopardized by its disclosure.”(1) The article delineated ways in which “many of the senior officials in [Trump’s] own administration are working diligently from within to frustrate parts of his agenda and his worst inclinations.” The writer claims that these officials are attempting to thwart “Mr. Trump’s more misguided impulses until he is out of office” in order “to preserve our democratic institutions.”

The writer calls these officials “the steady state,” who act to counter “the president’s leadership style, which is impetuous, adversarial, petty and ineffective,” and his “amorality,” which is unmoored from “any discernible first principles that guide his decision making.” 

But wait, says our steady stater: 
Don’t get me wrong. There are bright spots that the near-ceaseless negative coverage of the administration fails to capture: effective deregulation, historic tax reform, a more robust military and more.

*

The “bright spots” our steady stater points to really tells us all we need to know. As Susan B. Glasser notes:
Both the Op-Ed and [Woodward’s] book convey the laments of conservatives who, in many respects, are fine with the Trump agenda but not with the man.(2)
What the steady staters are doing is propping up a Potemkin village of an administration, behind whose two-dimensional facade exists the typical conservative cabal plot to make the air more polluted, the workplace more dangerous, payday lenders freer to scam the poor, healthcare less available to the public, etc. (all in pursuit of the chimera “effective deregulation”). And even more iniquitous, there is the continued push for a “tax reform” that gifts tax breaks to the rich in line with the discredited Reaganesque trickle-down theory of monetary distribution, which George H. W. Bush so rightly entitled “voodoo economics.”



*

If trickle-down distribution really worked, I imagine a dramatic representation would go something like this:

Plutocratic CEO (opening envelope): Look at this, my dear, we have just received a whopping great tax credit from the IRS. What do you think we should do with it to facilitate economic growth, relieve the burdens of those less fortunate than ourselves, and make sure that tax revenues will grow in the future?

Mrs. Plutocratic CEO (thinking hard): I suppose we could take the money and give it to our servants—the maids, the cook, the chauffeur, the gardener. They will immediately spend it, giving the economy a great kick in the pants.

Plutocratic CEO: Now I know why I married you—which I would have done even without your daddy’s stock options!


Unfortunately, I imagine trickle-down works more like this parallel situation in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility (it’s a bit long, but stick with it—it’s brilliant):

From Chapter 1

When he gave his promise to his father [on his deathbed], [John Dashwood] meditated within himself to increase the fortunes of his sisters by the present of a thousand pounds a-piece. He then really thought himself equal to it. The prospect of four thousand a-year, in addition to his present income, besides the remaining half of his own mother's fortune, warmed his heart, and made him feel capable of generosity.— "Yes, he would give them three thousand pounds: it would be liberal and handsome! It would be enough to make them completely easy. Three thousand pounds! he could spare so considerable a sum with little inconvenience."— He thought of it all day long, and for many days successively, and he did not repent.

From Chapter 2

Mrs. John Dashwood did not at all approve of what her husband intended to do for his sisters. To take three thousand pounds from the fortune of their dear little boy would be impoverishing him to the most dreadful degree. She begged him to think again on the subject. How could he answer it to himself to rob his child, and his only child too, of so large a sum? And what possible claim could the Miss Dashwoods, who were related to him only by half blood, which she considered as no relationship at all, have on his generosity to so large an amount. It was very well known that no affection was ever supposed to exist between the children of any man by different marriages; and why was he to ruin himself, and their poor little Harry, by giving away all his money to his half sisters?
"It was my father's last request to me," replied her husband, "that I should assist his widow and daughters."
"He did not know what he was talking of, I dare say; ten to one but he was light-headed at the time. Had he been in his right senses, he could not have thought of such a thing as begging you to give away half your fortune from your own child."
"He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my dear Fanny; he only requested me, in general terms, to assist them, and make their situation more comfortable than it was in his power to do. Perhaps it would have been as well if he had left it wholly to myself. He could hardly suppose I should neglect them. But as he required the promise, I could not do less than give it; at least I thought so at the time. The promise, therefore, was given, and must be performed. Something must be done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new home."
"Well, then, LET something be done for them; but THAT something need not be three thousand pounds. Consider," she added, "that when the money is once parted with, it never can return. Your sisters will marry, and it will be gone for ever. If, indeed, it could be restored to our poor little boy—"
"Why, to be sure," said her husband, very gravely, "that would make great difference. The time may come when Harry will regret that so large a sum was parted with. If he should have a numerous family, for instance, it would be a very convenient addition."
"To be sure it would."
"Perhaps, then, it would be better for all parties, if the sum were diminished one half.—Five hundred pounds would be a prodigious increase to their fortunes!"
"Oh! beyond anything great! What brother on earth would do half so much for his sisters, even if REALLY his sisters! And as it is—only half blood!—But you have such a generous spirit!"
"I would not wish to do any thing mean," he replied. "One had rather, on such occasions, do too much than too little. No one, at least, can think I have not done enough for them: even themselves, they can hardly expect more."
"There is no knowing what THEY may expect," said the lady, "but we are not to think of their expectations: the question is, what you can afford to do."
"Certainly—and I think I may afford to give them five hundred pounds a-piece. As it is, without any addition of mine, they will each have about three thousand pounds on their mother's death—a very comfortable fortune for any young woman."
"To be sure it is; and, indeed, it strikes me that they can want no addition at all. They will have ten thousand pounds divided amongst them. If they marry, they will be sure of doing well, and if they do not, they may all live very comfortably together on the interest of ten thousand pounds."
"That is very true, and, therefore, I do not know whether, upon the whole, it would not be more advisable to do something for their mother while she lives, rather than for them—something of the annuity kind I mean.—My sisters would feel the good effects of it as well as herself. A hundred a year would make them all perfectly comfortable."
His wife hesitated a little, however, in giving her consent to this plan.
"To be sure," said she, "it is better than parting with fifteen hundred pounds at once. But, then, if Mrs. Dashwood should live fifteen years we shall be completely taken in."
"Fifteen years! my dear Fanny; her life cannot be worth half that purchase."
"Certainly not; but if you observe, people always live for ever when there is an annuity to be paid them; and she is very stout and healthy, and hardly forty. An annuity is a very serious business; it comes over and over every year, and there is no getting rid of it. You are not aware of what you are doing. I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father's will, and it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my mother's disposal, without any restriction whatever. It has given me such an abhorrence of annuities, that I am sure I would not pin myself down to the payment of one for all the world."
"It is certainly an unpleasant thing," replied Mr. Dashwood, "to have those kind of yearly drains on one's income. One's fortune, as your mother justly says, is NOT one's own. To be tied down to the regular payment of such a sum, on every rent day, is by no means desirable: it takes away one's independence."
"Undoubtedly; and after all you have no thanks for it. They think themselves secure, you do no more than what is expected, and it raises no gratitude at all. If I were you, whatever I did should be done at my own discretion entirely. I would not bind myself to allow them any thing yearly. It may be very inconvenient some years to spare a hundred, or even fifty pounds from our own expenses."
"I believe you are right, my love; it will be better that there should be no annuity in the case; whatever I may give them occasionally will be of far greater assistance than a yearly allowance, because they would only enlarge their style of living if they felt sure of a larger income, and would not be sixpence the richer for it at the end of the year. It will certainly be much the best way. A present of fifty pounds, now and then, will prevent their ever being distressed for money, and will, I think, be amply discharging my promise to my father."
"To be sure it will. Indeed, to say the truth, I am convinced within myself that your father had no idea of your giving them any money at all. The assistance he thought of, I dare say, was only such as might be reasonably expected of you; for instance, such as looking out for a comfortable small house for them, helping them to move their things, and sending them presents of fish and game, and so forth, whenever they are in season. I'll lay my life that he meant nothing farther; indeed, it would be very strange and unreasonable if he did. Do but consider, my dear Mr. Dashwood, how excessively comfortable your mother-in-law and her daughters may live on the interest of seven thousand pounds, besides the thousand pounds belonging to each of the girls, which brings them in fifty pounds a year a-piece, and, of course, they will pay their mother for their board out of it. Altogether, they will have five hundred a-year amongst them, and what on earth can four women want for more than that?—They will live so cheap! Their housekeeping will be nothing at all. They will have no carriage, no horses, and hardly any servants; they will keep no company, and can have no expenses of any kind! Only conceive how comfortable they will be! Five hundred a year! I am sure I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it; and as to your giving them more, it is quite absurd to think of it. They will be much more able to give YOU something."
"Upon my word," said Mr. Dashwood, "I believe you are perfectly right. My father certainly could mean nothing more by his request to me than what you say. I clearly understand it now, and I will strictly fulfil my engagement by such acts of assistance and kindness to them as you have described. When my mother removes into another house my services shall be readily given to accommodate her as far as I can. Some little present of furniture too may be acceptable then."
"Certainly," returned Mrs. John Dashwood. "But, however, ONE thing must be considered. When your father and mother moved to Norland, though the furniture of Stanhill was sold, all the china, plate, and linen was saved, and is now left to your mother. Her house will therefore be almost completely fitted up as soon as she takes it."
"That is a material consideration undoubtedly. A valuable legacy indeed! And yet some of the plate would have been a very pleasant addition to our own stock here."
"Yes; and the set of breakfast china is twice as handsome as what belongs to this house. A great deal too handsome, in my opinion, for any place THEY can ever afford to live in. But, however, so it is. Your father thought only of THEM. And I must say this: that you owe no particular gratitude to him, nor attention to his wishes; for we very well know that if he could, he would have left almost everything in the world to THEM."
This argument was irresistible. It gave to his intentions whatever of decision was wanting before; and he finally resolved, that it would be absolutely unnecessary, if not highly indecorous, to do more for the widow and children of his father, than such kind of neighbourly acts as his own wife pointed out.

*

One last thought:

Perhaps the next writer of a tell-all book about TrumpWorld might consider Pride and Prejudice as a most appropriate title.
  
***



Wednesday, September 5, 2018

Their Daily Bread



In a moment that can be described as pure Grouchovian, Karl Marx pre-empted his namesake by observing that “History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce."  

When I read recently that the Delhi high court in India issued a ruling decriminalizing begging in the streets,* it occurred to me that Marx’s observation could be expanded to claim also that “The content of satire eventually repeats itself as reality.”

In what was his most famous satiric gem, Anatole France (1844-1924) noted:
La majestueuse égalité des lois, qui interdit au riche comme au pauvre de coucher sous les ponts, de mendier dans les rues et de voler du pain.
(In its majestic equality, the law forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges, beg in the streets and steal loaves of bread.)

Well, at least in this one case, the law relaxed its “majestic equality” and saw fit to remove the interdiction against the destitute begging in the streets. May we presume that it is still verboten for the rich? 

Actually, as we know from our own experience in the US, it would be hard to find on the streets of any great city a plutocrat with his hand out. That is not to say that the rich are not beggars; they are—but not on the streets and generally not in person. They do their begging in the corridors of power—and by proxy, employing those smarmy lapdogs known as “lobbyists.” 

*

What is it with the poor, who, Jesus said, will always be with us? 

I think I have a clue. “Behind every great fortune lies a great crime,” Honore de Balzac (1799-1850) asserted. The problem with the poor, it would seem therefore, is that they aren’t criminal enough.

***

* “Begging is their last resort to subsistence,” the judges ruled. “Criminalising begging is a wrong approach to deal with the underlying causes of the problem and violates the fundamental rights of some of the most vulnerable people.”
https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2018/aug/21/its-their-last-resort-delhi-high-court-decriminalises-begging




Tuesday, August 14, 2018

Smoke and Fire



Ryan Zinke, Secretary of the Interior, has put on his detective hat and has identified the miscreants who are responsible for the terrible wildfires that are burning up California—they are the environmentalists:
The US interior secretary, Ryan Zinke, has blamed environmentalists for California’s ferocious wildfires and claimed, contrary to scientific research, that climate change had “nothing to do” with them.*
It would be nice to say that Secretary Zinke’s headgear was a Holmesian deerstalker, but in reality Zinke, himself, is less a Sherlock than a Vidocq. 

Eugène François Vidocq is considered the first private detective and was the model for Edgar Allan Poe’s fictional sleuth, C. Auguste Dupin. But before Vidocq turned to hunting criminals, he was one himself, with a long police rap sheet. 

Now, to be fair, Zinke has not spent time behind bars, like Vidocq, but as Huffpost has put it: 
With [Scott] Pruitt now gone [from the EPA], Zinke appears to have taken the reins as the most scandal-plagued member of President Donald Trump’s Cabinet.**
Here's part of Zinke's rap sheet:
The sweetheart Halliburton land deal, secret meetings, expensive trips on charter planes and helicopters, and several cases of mixing partisan politics with Interior business — all these and more are on the list of Zinke’s alleged abuses, wasteful spending, and conflicts of interest.***
However, again to be fair, Zinke has a challenger to that title in Wilbur Ross, the Secretary of Commerce:
If even half of the accusations [against Ross] are legitimate, the current United States secretary of commerce could rank among the biggest grifters in American history.**** 
Of course, Zinke's and Ross’ boss would give them both a run for their money.

*

 But back to our main storyline.

One need not be a detective oneself to conclude that Zinke, in his claim to have discovered the culprits behind the California fires, has shown himself not to be a disciple of Holmes or Vidocq. He has let his ideological heart rule his forensic head. Even the most amateurish wannabe detective would not claim that environmentalists are to blame for the west coast inferno. 

It was environmentalists with matches

***








Monday, August 13, 2018

"Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me"


A soaring crime rate meant P. E. did not feel safe walking around the barrio. She said other madres in the playground expressed similar worries, and that stress about violent crime has dogged her recently. "It's crazy how unsafe it has become — so much more so than 10 years ago." "Talking with other madres at school, there have been so many incidents, so many attacks, robberies, knives during the day. You don't feel safe walking around the neighborhood.”
***

P. E. and her children hitched rides when they could, but mostly walked days and nights through Central America and Mexico, arriving finally at the southern border of the United States, where she turned herself in to the authorities and asked for asylum for herself and her children. 

She was immediately arrested and separated from her children, who were taken away to be warehoused in inhumane conditions. Where they are now she doesn’t know.

An all-too-familiar story under the present administration.

***

But wait! I lied.

The story as I quoted above isn’t exactly as reported in the newspaper article I read the other day.*

Here, to set the record straight, is the relevant portion of the original:
Petra Ecclestone has spoken of her relief over moving to Los Angeles as a soaring crime rate meant she did not feel safe walking around Chelsea. The heiress said other mothers in the playground expressed similar worries, and that stress about violent crime has dogged her recently. She told the Sunday Times Magazine: "It's crazy how unsafe the UK has become — so much more so than 10 years ago." "Talking with mums at school, there have been so many incidents, so many attacks, robberies, knives during the day. You don't feel safe walking around the neighbourhood.”
Ms. Ecclestone has already selected the place where she will live out her days as a refugee from the violence of her anarchic homeland:
The socialite plans to shortly move into her 57,000ft LA mansion - the largest house in Los Angeles county - and said she believes she will enjoy an easier life across the pond.
Here’s a picture of Ms. Ecclestone when she could safely walk the streets of Chelsea and take a brief stroll over to Harrods to pick up a tchochke or two:



The child with her in the above picture and her two siblings, once settled into their place of asylum, need have no fear of being knifed on the walk to school—they won’t have to walk: 
[Ecclestone] said:  "There is valet parking for the kids and the teachers come and get them from the car.”
Whether the children have to walk with the teachers to the door of the school or are carried there is unknown at present.

*

Some background:

Petra is the daughter of Bernie Ecclestone, a one-time used car dealer, who made his way to the top of the tree by turning the auto-racing sport called Formula One into an international institution. As the years went on, F1 dropped many historic racing venues from its program while spreading its tentacles into such famous motoring countries (and citadels of democracy) as Bahrain, Abu Dhabi, Azerbaijan, and Singapore.

But, then again, Bernie never cared much for democracy:
Former Formula One dictator-in-chief Bernie Ecclestone hates a lot of things. He hates the entire continent of North America, a known shit hole. He hates the idea of gender equality. He hates social media. He also hates when widespread corruption is out of the picture, because corruption accomplishes things.
But damn, does this guy hate democracy. He’s been reminding us of that for years, including when he said in 2009 that Hitler, Saddam Hussein and the Taliban were good at getting things done. Here are a few select quotes on that topic that made it into The Times, from Ecclestone circa almost a decade ago:
“If you have a look at a democracy it hasn’t done a lot of good for many countries - including this one. I like people who make up their minds.”
We did a terrible thing when we supported the idea of getting rid of Saddam Hussein, he was the only one who could control that country. It was the same [with the Taleban] [The Times of London spells that murderous group differently from just about everybody else].
“In a lot of ways, ... [Hitler] was in the way that he could command a lot of people able to get things done. ... In the end he got lost so he wasn’t a very good dictator.”**
On the other hand, if his daughter Petra ever expressed a political thought, it’s unfindable through a Google search of “Petra Ecclestone politics.” What she has done, however, was to mirror the non-political activities of a daughter of another admirer of dictators and strongmen by doing some modeling and then operating a shmatte company. 
*

So, in conclusion, we must be joyful that one member of the huddled masses is now able to breathe free in Los Angeles (sorry about the smog, though). 


But we also must wonder how she was able to squeeze ahead of all those other frightened madres at our borders and be allowed to take asylum when the others can’t.

***



(Ecclestone, it seems, will have to put his head together with Trump to determine what the definition of a “shit hole” country is, and which states qualify.)



Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Good Luck, Peasants!



Two days ago I watched The Tree of Wooden Clogs (L’albero degli zoccoli), Ermanno Olmi’s 1978 film which won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Festival. The film depicts a year in the lives of four families occupying a farmstead in Lombardy at the end of the 19th century. Olmi, who died this past May, used ordinary people from the Bergamo area instead of professional actors. The amateurs acted anything but amateurishly, giving the film an aura of verisimilitude. 

The families (peasants, in fact) live in a state of semi-feudalism. As an English title board tells us: “Almost everything, even 2/3rds of the harvest, belongs to the landlord.” The Italian board specifies what some of the “everything” is: la casa (the house); le stalle (the stables); la terra (the land); gli alberi (the trees); and some of the bestiame (livestock) and attrezzi (tools). 

The film has the feel of a documentary, depicting the community plowing, planting, harvesting, and transporting large bags of produce to be weighed. The film is not plot driven; but the small stories of the folk are evident throughout. The first story (and the one from which the film gets its title) is that of Minec, the five-year-old son of Batistì, who has been identified by the local priest as a very bright boy and who, therefore, in the priest’s eyes, should be sent to school. Batistì himself, as he tells the priest, has never seen the inside of a school, and complains to his wife, “A peasant’s son going to school, what would people say?” Moreover, his wife is pregnant with their third child, and if Minec goes to school, the family will lose a helping hand around the house.

Nevertheless, the boy does go off to school, walking 6 kilometers each way to the village in his wooden clogs. 

Another resident of the farmstead is a widow with too many mouths to feed. Her only income comes from washing other people’s laundry and the little money her fifteen-year-old son earns from his new job at the mill. To alleviate the burden of her poverty, the priest tells her that the nuns would be willing to take the two youngest children into care. But the son absolutely vetoes the proposal; the family will stick together. 

The life these Bergamese peasants have is the life their ancestors had. They bear their lot and carry on. And no matter how little they have, they will hand a bowl of polenta to a beggar who shows up at their door.

But except for a handout or an occasional boost from the Church, these people have no social safety net. And no idea about acting together for social change. When a radical speaker proclaims his message from a soapbox at the village fair, he is mostly ignored. And as we see when the film for a while leaves the Bergamo area to follow the honeymoon visit of a newly-wed couple to Milan, the soldiers of the state are busily rounding up government opponents, who are led off to prison in shackles. 

Another time when the film moves away from the peasants we find the padrone (the landlord), on the other hand, living a comfortable life. We are able to view it—deliberately distanced from it—through a window. A young man (the padrone’s son?) plays Mozart’s “Rondo alla Turca” on the piano while his well-dressed audience dozes or exhibits boredom.

The denouement of the film (which I won’t reveal) comes about through the padrone’s exercise of his property rights. He will not be caught dozing when they are violated.

*

Yesterday, by contrast, I read an article about the egregious Koch brothers, billionaires with no social conscience. Written by Jane Mayer, a long-time tracker of the duo, the article* relates how elder bro, Charles, has eased his sib, David, out of the Koch family business. 

The Koch brothers, through various political action committees, have spent, are spending, and unfortunately for well-being of the Republic, will in future spend even more millions of dollars in an attempt to achieve their goal—what William Buckley, Jr.** once labeled “Anarcho-Totalitarianism.” The money has come from ownership of companies in just about every environmentally-destructive and polluting industry: "oil refineries and pipelines,  . . . lumber, paper, chemicals, coal, fertilizer.” 

Is it any wonder that they wish to destroy the EPA? 

In 1980, David ran for Vice-President on the Libertarian Party ticket. In addition to calling for the abolishment of the EPA, the party’s platform called for getting rid of "all federal income taxes and virtually every federal agency, including the I.R.S., the F.B.I., the C.I.A., the F.E.C., . . . the F.D.A., and the S.E.C. The party also opposed Medicaid, Medicare, Social Security, public education, and minimum-wage and child-labor laws."

Welcome to 19th century Bergamo!

*** 


      ** I can’t believe I’m quoting Buckley approvingly!





Friday, July 13, 2018

Problems Solved



HG: Today on our blog we have the rare treat of an in-person interview with Herr Antwort Mann . . .

[Cough] AM: Herr Professor Doktor Antwort Mann . . .

HG: Er . . . sorry . . . Herr Professor Doktor Antwort Mann of the Institut für Alles Wissen in Fortzheim, Germany.

[Cough] AM: Pfortzheim!—mit ein puh.

HG: Er . . . sorry, again. Anyway, the Professor Doktor is here to offer scientific solutions to some of the troubling problems of our day.

AM: Dass ist korrekt.

HG: By the way, Herr Professor Doktor, how was your flight from Germany?

AM: Nicht gut! Economy Klasse, as you say auf Englisch, is the pits! I just now have been able to lower my knees from my eyebrows. Ah, but the hotel you booked me into—mit ein minibar mit Schnapps!

HG: That’s great about the hotel. But now let’s get to the issues at hand. First, a headline the other day on slate.com stated, “Goldman Sachs Warns That Rising Wages Could Cut Into Corporate Profits.”* Is that a serious problem? And, if so, what can be done about resolving it?

AM: Dass ist ein sehr serious problem! Especially if you are a Goldman Sachs partner! If the company keeps raising the wages of the workers, there will be less money for the partners to divide up for Christmas bonuses.

HG: But is there a solution?

AM: A solution there is definitely! Und really it doesn’t take a professor from the Institut für Alles Wissen to see it. What Goldman Sachs should do—is fire all its workers! Then all the profits go to the partners!

HG: I never thought of that.

AM: Maybe it does take a professor from Pfortzheim. 

HG: Moving on—our next problem has to do with children . . .

AM: Kinder, ja?

HG: Here in the US we have the problem of the children who have been taken away from their parents at the borders and transported far away from them.

AM: Ja?

HG: And even the problem of these children—as young as one year old—having to defend themselves in court.**

AM: You make ein Witz—a joke—nicht wahr?

HG: It’s very wahr—er, true.

AM: Gott in Himmel!

HG: Speaking of God, then there are all those evangelicals who are clamoring for the protection of the unborn—fetuses, that is—but seem to have no problem supporting a government that won’t promote breastfeeding.***

AM: Breastfeeding is gut; I favor it myself. . . . Vell, for the kinderproblem, here we can rely on the advice of the klassiker dramatist Sophocles. In his Tragödie Oedipus Rex, the chorus proclaims, “best it is never to be born.” 

HG: I don’t get it.

AM: You see, if the fetuses refuse to be born, they will never suffer the miseries of being separated from their parents, having to go to court, or having formula being forced upon them instead of mother’s milk—und  they will always be protected by the evangelicals and right-to-lifers. Alles is solved!

HG: I do perceive one flaw here, though—if the so-called right-to-lifers support the unborn, but totally neglect the born, shouldn’t they be called the “right-to-be-unborners”?

AM: Hmm. I vill haf to think about that on the flight home to Germany. By the vey, you couldn’t make it First Klasse this time, could you?

***


** The 1-year-old boy in a green button-up shirt drank milk from a bottle, played with a small purple ball that lit up when it hit the ground and occasionally asked for “agua.”
Then it was the child’s turn for his court appearance before a Phoenix immigration judge, who could hardly contain his unease with the situation during the portion of the hearing where he asks immigrant defendants whether they understand the proceedings.
“I’m embarrassed to ask it, because I don’t know who you would explain it to, unless you think that a 1-year-old could learn immigration law,” Judge John W. Richardson told the lawyer representing the 1-year-old boy.