From Kandahar to the Western World 

The Story of Ahmed Amir

Part 1

Maria Belli looked stunned. When Marco Dotti looked to see what she was viewing, he saw a dark-skinned, strikingly handsome man. Ahmed Amir wore a well-fitting blue pinstriped suit, with a white shirt, paisley tie, and intelligent-looking oxford shoes from Churchill of London. His hair was jet black and neatly combed. Perhaps most striking was Amir’s smile and unmistakable charisma. Belli turned to Dotti and said, who is that man?

 

The Village of Farid was 100 kilometers from Kandahar, north of the Pakistan border. It was a poor community made of farmers and sheepherders. A stronghold of the Taliban, Farid was not an easy place to live. Ahmed Amir was born there.

 

Ahmed’s family were humble animal tenders, but they were proud people who hated the Russian and American soldiers who had invaded their country for so many years. Ahmed’s father had helped the Taliban in their relentless search to find and destroy the enemy. 

 

Ahmed was a child of promise in a land of no opportunity. He was intelligent, clever, inventive, and cunning. Faster than all the boys in his village, Ahmed could run like the wind and easily mastered riding local horses. When he was eight years old, the local Taliban leader Fatah Nader recruited him. Ahmed learned to shoot automatic weapons, throw grenades, and scout ahead of advancing troops to find the Americans. His father wanted him to give up his activities with the Taliban, but that was like asking a man in the desert not to drink.

 

A conference such as this one was highly unusual. When Ahmed was 12, the regional Taliban leader, Ali Zafar, met with Ahmed and village chieftain Nader. When Ahmed was summoned to the meeting, he thought he had done something wrong, and his usual composure faltered.

 

“ I want you to listen carefully, my son. I am giving you the chance of a lifetime, but it will call for extraordinary resourcefulness on your part. He explained that the Taliban had begun to think long-term and wanted to groom future leaders. Ahmed would attend the best schools in England after a year of intense tutoring in London. He would go on to a university and learn the ways of the Western world. At the right time, Taliban leaders would assign relevant missions, though they were years away.

 

Twenty boys from different parts of Afganistan had been chosen for the program. Due to his intelligence, confidence, and charisma, Ahmed had been at the top of the list. What Zafar didn’t tell Ahmed was that some of these missions might be terrorist operations. But he figured there would be time later to discuss that.

 

Next, the Chief and Ahmed met with the boy’s parents. It wasn’t like they had a choice in the matter, though it was presented as if they did. He couldn’t articulate it, but Ahmed had sensed that there was nothing for him in his village except boredom and poverty. When the parents asked when their son had to leave, the Taliban Chief said, “ In three days.”

 

After a teary farewell in which much of the village lined the streets and said goodbye to the young Afghan, Ahmed, accompanied by a Taliban elder, began the long journey to Karachi, Pakistan, known as “The Dangerous City.”

 

The journey to Karachi was 473 miles along the  Asian Highway. The elder drove a Toyota Corolla with Ahmed in the back and a Taliban soldier in front for protection. The border crossing into Pakistan went smoothly, helped by forged documents and bribes. It was night when the group reached Karachi, where a safe house was waiting.

 

Ahmed had cried when he left his parents, but now the excitement of a big city and all it offered had pulled the young Afghan in a different direction. Though the Taliban elder had told Ahmed to stay put, when the rest of the people in the safe house slept, he wandered out to the street to explore the neighborhood. Ahmed’s wandering was an error on his part.

 

 

 

 

 

The French Man

 

The Charles River isn’t the Seine, but it is pleasant nonetheless, particularly in autumn when the smell of burning leaves permeates the cold air of the North Eastern Unites States. He strolled, taking in the buildings of Harvard University and listening to the cadence calls of the coxswains as they guided their eights west toward Boston on the Charles.

 

Why was the French man in Cambridge? Sometimes he wondered himself. 

The Agency suspected a man working for Assad in Syria was coming with a group of operatives to M.I.T. to steal the formula for Syrex, a new poison inadvertently discovered by two professors. The C.I.A. has requested the French Man’s help from the National Intelligence Agency in Paris.

 

The Frenchman, who spoke Arabic among several other languages, was an expert on Syria. The destructive potential of the new poison was so high that the Company was using every resource available to them to apprehend the interlopers.

 

At the Union Oyster House on Oxford Street, the French man talked with Charlie Farrell, number two man at the C.I.A. Farrell ordered clam chowder followed by local cod. His guest: lobster bisque and a bucket of steamed clams. Farrell enjoyed a Sam Adams, and the French man had his usual Stella Artois. After lunch, they each had a drink. Farrell preferred another beer, and the Parisian, a Remy Martin XO. 

 

Over lunch, Farrell briefed the French man. They knew little other than a caper was imminent. Security at M.I.T. was tight. No one could move the poison, as an accident could diminish the East Coast population by 3 million! The formula was protected by an encrypted code known only to three people.

 

The French man didn’t like it. The whole outline was too clear and straightforward, and the Syrians didn’t think in a straight line. Farrell was planning for a deep volley, but a drop shot was coming. He was sure of it.

 

Sure enough, within days, the lead Professor of the team that developed Syrex had been kidnapped. Leaving his home in Concord, he had been forced off the road on Route 2 and grabbed. One witness said three masked men had thrown him into the back of a white van, which was later found in Bedford, abandoned. The French man couldn’t believe that the C.I.A. hadn’t posted guards at the M.I.T. peoples’ houses. Now they had, but it was too late. 

                                                        

 

The French man wasn’t surprised at the kidnapping. He knew the way the Syrians operated. He went to local headquarters and waited. Within hours the demand came in. Release the formula or be prepared for the Professor’s death. The French man listed carefully to the call and was sure he had heard something. What was it?

 

It was the sound of a rushing river. There weren’t that many rivers in the immediate area.  The French man immediately brought up several maps of an area 50 miles in circumference around Boston. Many people gathered around his desk. Then he asked for the phone call to be amplified and replayed. There it was! The river but something else. It was a loon’s call. He was sure of it! But where did they have a loon population nearby? They made a call to The Audubon Society, and they had it! The Ipswich River. 

 

Soon satellites were searching the north shore of Massachusetts for anything unusual from rental cars to houses with no lights. Bingo! An eavesdropping satellite 30 miles in the atmosphere picked up Syrian chatter in a place five miles north of Ipswich.

 

The Agency mobilized a team, and several black Chevy Suburbans headed north on Route 1. The French man was calm. He ate a ham sandwich with hot mustard in the car. For drink? A Stella. The Americans couldn’t drink on the job, so they had Coca-Cola. The French man smiled. 

 

When they reached the outskirts of Ipswich, the French man finished his sandwich and turned to the head man on the job from the C.I.A., Julian Evers.  He outlined a plan. A Protensic T25 GPS Drone would be deployed at midnight. The drone would be carrying a payload of disabling non-lethal gas. If they had any luck, they would dispense the canister of gas down the sizeable chimney atop the Colonial-style home. Within minutes all occupants should be asleep.

 

At 12:10, the French man entered the Syrians rental home. He wore a 3M7162 Respirator and carried a Famas G-2 pistol. He observed numerous sleeping bodies, including that of the Professor. “Good morning.” he said in Arabic, followed by.” I hope you had a nice rest.”

                                                      

 

On the way back to Paris, the French man enjoyed a glass of Dom Perignon followed by fore grass and smoked salmon. After landing at the Charles DE Gaulle Airport,  he stepped into a Mercedes S Car, which took him for debriefing at the Hotel Ritz Carleton.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Times Gone By

 

                                                                               

When asked why he remained in the somewhat humble job of press secretary, when he could have had a “more high-profile job in the private sector, Pierre Salinger, who worked for John F. Kennedy, said something to the effect, “The opportunity to work for a man like Jack Kennedy comes along maybe once in a lifetime.”

 

Kennedy had loyal friends and associates, though he didn’t demand loyalty. He was pragmatic and political, but he was also principled. Listen to his wonderful speeches! People gravitated to him and wanted to be on his team. He wasn’t naive but he was respectful and appreciative of the talents of other.

 

JFK surrounded himself with smart, accomplished, successful people.  He knew his limitations, and he wasn’t threatened by the expertise of others. People like John Galbraith, Robert McNamara, Nicholas Katzenbach, and Dean Rusk were giants in their own right, and Kennedy wanted them on his team.

 

JFK demanded that his cabinet and advisors tell him what they thought which may or may not have agreed with his ideas. He did not want yea sayers and was clear about this. He liked to take under advisement the ideas of his associates and then make his own decision.

 

How different the current administration is! 45 wants agreement and attacks critics. A friend can become an instant enemy when he raises questions about the policies of 45. Men with distinguished careers are denigrated quickly if they question 45.

 

John Kennedy owned his errors. I remember well his television speech after the failed invasion of Cuba. He said he took “full responsibility” for the failed mission. Have you ever heard 45 make such a statement? Kennedy was an 

 role model for all citizens. Is 45?

The French Man

 

The Charles River isn’t the Seine, but it is pleasant nonetheless, particularly in autumn when the smell of burning leaves permeates the cold air of the North Eastern Unites States. He strolled, taking in the buildings of Harvard University and listening to the cadence calls of the coxswains as they guided their eights west toward Boston on the Charles.

 

Why was the French man in Cambridge? Sometimes he wondered himself. 

The Agency suspected a man working for Assad in Syria was coming with a group of operatives to M.I.T. to steal the formula for Syrex, a new poison inadvertently discovered by two professors. The C.I.A. has requested the French Man’s help from the National Intelligence Agency in Paris.

 

The Frenchman, who spoke Arabic among several other languages, was an expert on Syria. The destructive potential of the new poison was so high that the Company was using every resource available to them to apprehend the interlopers.

 

At the Union Oyster House on Oxford Street, the French man talked with Charlie Farrell, number two man at the C.I.A. Farrell ordered clam chowder followed by local cod. His guest: lobster bisque and a bucket of steamed clams. Farrell enjoyed a Sam Adams, and the French man had his usual Stella Artois. After lunch, they each had a drink. Farrell preferred another beer, and the Parisian, a Remy Martin XO. 

 

Over lunch, Farrell briefed the French man. They knew little other than a caper was imminent. Security at M.I.T. was tight. No one could move the poison, as an accident could diminish the East Coast population by 3 million! The formula was protected by an encrypted code known only to three people.

 

The French man didn’t like it. The whole outline was too clear and straightforward, and the Syrians didn’t think in a straight line. Farrell was planning for a deep volley, but a drop shot was coming. He was sure of it.

 

Sure enough, within days, the lead Professor of the team that developed Syrex had been kidnapped. Leaving his home in Concord, he had been forced off the road on Route 2 and grabbed. One witness said three masked men had thrown him into the back of a white van, which was later found in Bedford, abandoned. The French man couldn’t believe that the C.I.A. hadn’t posted guards at the M.I.T. peoples’ houses. Now they had, but it was too late. 

 

The French man wasn’t surprised at the kidnapping. He knew the way the Syrians operated. He went to local headquarters and waited. Within hours the demand came in. Release the formula or be prepared for the Professor’s death. The French man listed carefully to the call and was sure he had heard something. What was it?

 

It was the sound of a rushing river. There weren’t that many rivers in the immediate area.  The French man immediately brought up several maps of an area 50 miles in circumference around Boston. Many people gathered around his desk. Then he asked for the phone call to be amplified and replayed. There it was! The river but something else. It was a loon’s call. He was sure of it! But where did they have a loon population nearby? They made a call to The Audubon Society, and they had it! The Ipswich River.

 

Soon satellites were searching the north shore of Massachusetts for anything unusual from rental cars to houses with no lights. Bingo! An eavesdropping satellite 30 miles in the atmosphere picked up Syrian chatter in a place five miles north of Ipswich.

 

The Agency mobilized a team, and several black Chevy Suburbans headed north on Route 1. The French man was calm. He ate a ham sandwich with hot mustard in the car. For drink? A Stella. The Americans couldn’t drink on the job, so they had Coca-Cola. The French man smiled. 

 

When they reached the outskirts of Ipswich, the French man finished his sandwich and turned to the head man on the job from the C.I.A., Julian Evers.  He outlined a plan. A Protensic T25 GPS Drone would be deployed at midnight. The drone would be carrying a payload of disabling non-lethal gas. If they had any luck, they would dispense the canister of gas down the sizeable chimney atop the Colonial-style home. Within minutes all occupants should be asleep.

 

At 12:10, the French man entered the Syrians rental home. He wore a 3M7162 Respirator and carried a Famas G-2 pistol. He observed numerous sleeping bodies, including that of the Professor. “Good morning.” he said in Arabic, followed by.” I hope you had a nice rest.”

 

On the way back to Paris, the French man enjoyed a glass of Dom Perignon followed by fore grass and smoked salmon. After landing at the Charles DE Gaulle Airport,  he stepped into a Mercedes S Car, which took him for debriefing at the Hotel Ritz Carleton.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What we have missed

 

So much has been written about Trump’s pettiness, vengeful nature, and incompetence that it is easy to lose sight of some of the intangibles of leadership. November 22, the anniversary of President Kennedy’s death, stimulated me to think about this topic.

 

Part of the Kennedy appeal was that he was handsome, had a beautiful wife and family, and was intelligent and witty. He was charismatic, and people were drawn to him wherever he went.  He took Ireland by storm, De Gaulle and his countrymen loved Jackie, and JFK’s speech in Berlin with his famous phrase, “Ich bin ein Berliner,” captured the hearts of the German people. 

 

Was it all show and fluff? No, John Kennedy was shrewd and keenly political, but he also had paid his dues. Like John McCain, he was a genuine war hero. He saved the crew of his PT boat and personally risked his life during a dangerous mission. 

 

He campaigned hard, and his love of people showed. Rather than manipulating his base,  he cultivated it through persuasion and person-to-person contact. He could talk to anyone from a maintenance man to a CEO.

 

Kennedy inspired people by appealing to their heroic nature. Work hard to make the country better. Serve others. These were his mantras. The “New Frontier” perfectly captured his sense of forwarding movement and progress. He put forth a vision that had emanated from his family’s experience of being immigrants, outsiders, and then power brokers. 

 

Kennedy had style and class. He brought artists to the White House to perform. President Kennedy held elegant state dinners and made us proud to be Americans. At the same time, he wasn’t pretentious. He liked spending time with his Irish cronies from Boston as he did with Harvard intellectuals like Dean Rusk and Kenneth Galbreath. 

 

I suppose you can’t hide who you are. The famous psychologist, Gordon Allport, said one’s attitudes and values poured out in how you dressed, talked, and behaved. John Kennedy was a kind, responsible, brave man. This characteristic was shown through and was part of his appeal. 

 

Kennedy was not a petty man. He had suffered many losses, was frequently in physical pain, and embraced the challenge and hard work. His press conferences revealed much about his person. He once remarked that he didn’t always like dealing with the questions the press threw at him, but he recognized how important they were to the democratic process. His dry sense of humor and ability to poke fun at himself endeared him to the cynical Washington Press Corps. When he died, Walter Cronkite wept on live television, and he spoke for all of us. 

 

 

 

                                              Insight and Decision Making

Insight is an essential word in mental health treatment. Therapists want their patients to understand the motives for their behavior and their origins. Freud famously talked about making the unconscious conscious. Awareness and understanding bring the possibility of change. Therapists want self-insight, so their emotional snags don’t interfere with their work. 

 

Insight, awareness, and anticipation allow us to make the right decisions. At times our wants or emotions get in the way, and we make mistakes. I recently read about a government official who told a reporter, “I will destroy you.” We all get mad, but in certain situations, unbridled anger doesn’t work out. The official resigned.

 

It is incredible how people who are intelligent and savvy can make terrible decisions. Ted Cruz’s trip to Cancun put him in a bad light. Governor Newsom’s evening at the French Laundry in Napa during the height of the lockdown did not sit well with the electorate and gave his opponents an open the door to mount a recall movement. Why didn’t these people think through the potential ramifications of their behavior? 

 

Why didn’t Bill Clinton understand that his association with Jeffrey Epstein was doomed from the start? What was an attorney as smart as Alan Dershowitz doing spending time with a charlatan like Epstein? Mark Sanford, the former governor of South Carolina, told people he was solo hiking on the Appalachian Trail for a week. He lied and flew to Argentina to be with his mistress, Maria.  He was the governor!  Where was his head?

 

The entire Oakley, California school board recently resigned when they mocked parents during a public meeting about reopening schools. The board member didn’t realize a microphone was on. A mayor in Texas left office after maligning his constituents with” Quit whining and looking for a handout.”. What was he thinking?

 

I noticed that Rick Perry told the people of Texas that enduring horrific storm conditions was worth it to be free of Federal Government interference. The silk tie he was wearing had to have cost 100 dollars. I wonder if he thought about that or what it represented?

 

Often highly effective people fly under the radar. Why? It is because they have a well-developed ability to assess situations and themselves. Their responses don’t make waves and cause uproars.

 

Shoulder Chips

 

Lauren Boebert and her obstructionist troublemakers continue to be problems in the House of Representatives. People like Ms. Boebert carry an internal paradigm that they impose on any setting they find themselves in. In the paradigm, they are always the victims fighting to right the wrongs done to them and others. People are taking their guns, applying unfair laws, and generally stomping on their freedom. They don’t trust authority, though ironically, they are authoritarian. Create a utopia for them with few rules, and they will find some dissatisfaction.

 

Anger is the fuel that drives them. Without a fight, they are directionless and lost. Guns are the perfect symbol that reflects power and strength and cover-up underlying feelings of weakness and inadequacy. They need an enemy to feel whole and purposeful.

 

Occasionally when I taught, I would run across a “Boebert” type person. I developed a set of disarming tactics when the person would try to bait me into a fight. Phrases like “that’s a good point,” “ I hadn’t thought of that,” or “ what does the rest of the class think” usually did the trick. Boeberts thrive on engagement; when they don’t get it, they wilt.

 

Majorie Taylor Green is back at it. She has angered Republicans and Democrats alike by trying to adjourn the house before a vote is debated or taken. She claims to have many tactics to disrupt processes. She claims she is acting on behalf of the American people, but she seems to be “Boeberting.”

 

The Republican party of North Carolina censured Senator Richard Burr for voting for the impeachment of Trump. However, they said nothing about Madison Cawthorn’s well-documented transgressions. These include sexual harassment, lying about his resume, and slandering a political opponent. Party loyalty has replaced more enduring values such as honesty, free speech, and integrity. Trump has set this tone, and one wonders how the G.O.P. can last.

 

 

 

 

 

Stories from Lockdown

November 25, 2020

Del Mar, CA

 

 

Norman Rockwell and Apple Pie

 

 

What is more American than Norman Rockwell, apple pie, and the Boy Scouts? Unfortunately, it has not been a few good years for the scouts, as scandal after scandal has unfolded. It seems that Catholic priests haven’t been the only predators abusing young men. Ninety-five thousand lawsuits have been filed against the Scouts alleging sexual molestation. That is a lot of cases. 

 

Growing up in a rural community, my friends and I were Cub Scouts. I had a great time in the scouts.  The meetings were fun, as were the football and baseball games that followed. I didn’t become a boy Scout and didn’t have much to do with scouting until I moved to California in 1974. Vicki and I use to backpack in the San Jacinto Wilderness a couple of times a year. Often, we would encounter troops of scouts on backpacking trips also. 

 

Often the scouts were a messy, disorganized group.  We were concerned. It was hot in that area in the Fall and Summer, and often we would encounter Scouts who were ill-equipped and overdressed. Their packs were too big, they carried unnecessary gear, and they were all tired. Perhaps most disturbing was the fact that the hikers were walking alone. Spread out over a mile or two, and we would pass groups of two or three and sometimes single kids. Most people agree that hiking alone is a bad idea!

 

I found this hard to understand until I began working in a professional capacity with some children who happened to be scouts. None alleged molestation, and their parents brought them for treatment for other problems.

 

As the kids were telling me about their trips, I was aghast once again. Fifty miles in a canoe is too much for anyone. Ten-mile hikes aren’t a good idea. What I learned was that the leaders were parents who often had little outdoor experience. The well-meaning parents, but they didn’t have the competence to lead wilderness trips. Not surprisingly, these trips frequently turned into disasters! 

 

 

When the situation called for it, I encouraged young people to attend skill-building programs like The National Outdoor Leadership School. The scouts, if the organization survives, need to do many things.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What we have missed

 

So much has been written about Trump’s pettiness, vengeful nature, and incompetence that it is easy to lose sight of some of the intangibles of leadership. November 22, the anniversary of President Kennedy’s death,  stimulated me to think about this topic.

 

Part of the Kennedy appeal was that he was handsome, had a beautiful wife and family, and was intelligent and witty. He was charismatic, and people were drawn to him wherever he went.  He took Ireland by storm, De Gaulle and his countrymen loved Jackie, and JFK’s speech in Berlin with his famous phrase, “Ich bin ein Berliner,” captured the hearts of the German people. 

 

Was it all show and fluff? No, John Kennedy was shrewd and keenly political, but he also had paid his dues. Like John McCain, he was a genuine war hero. He saved the crew of his PT boat and personally risked his life during a dangerous mission. 

 

He campaigned hard, and his love of people showed. Rather than manipulating his base,  he cultivated it through persuasion and person-to-person contact. He could talk to anyone from a maintenance man to a CEO.

 

Kennedy inspired people by appealing to their heroic nature. Work hard to make the country better. Serve others. These were his mantras. The “New Frontier” perfectly captured his sense of forwarding movement and progress. He put forth a vision that had emanated from his family’s experience of being immigrants, outsiders, and then power brokers. 

 

Kennedy had style and class. He brought artists to the White House to perform. President Kennedy held elegant state dinners and made us proud to be Americans. At the same time, he wasn’t pretentious. He liked spending time with his Irish cronies from Boston as he did with Harvard intellectuals like Dean Rusk and Kenneth Galbreath. 

 

I suppose you can’t hide who you are. The famous psychologist, Gordon Allport, said one’s attitudes and values poured out in how you dressed, talked, and behaved. John Kennedy was a kind, responsible, brave man. This characteristic was shown through and was part of his appeal. 

 

Kennedy was not a petty man. He had suffered many losses, was frequently in physical pain, and embraced the challenge and hard work. His press conferences revealed much about his person. He once remarked that he didn’t always like dealing with the questions the press threw at him, but he recognized how important they were to the democratic process. His dry sense of humor and ability to poke fun at himself endeared him to the cynical Washington Press Corps. When he died, Walter Cronkite wept on live television, and he spoke for all of us. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

January 6, 2021

 

Pandemic Notes

 

 

                                                                 

 

The pandemic continues to stealthily invade Southern California and beyond. I live in a friendly place, and people are used to hugging, fist-bumping, and shaking hands. No more. We all have a certain built-in hypervigilance channel that helps us become alert to threats and danger. Well, multiply that by 10! Everyone is a potential carrier, so the new normal is to try to be friendly but distant. Shoppers scatter from each other, golfers ride in separate carts, and neighborhoods are quiet because everyone is locked down. 

 

Where are the children? I don’t see them playing outdoors much, and the schools are empty. Certainly, childhood should be about curious exploration. I can remember roaming for miles with my friends in the country as a young boy. Now it’s the internet for kids in my suburban/urban area.

 

The GOP senators will be posturing and saying grand words today in Washington. The election is over, but simply, they can’t accept defeat. It is not complicated. Time, energy, and money are being spent on a futile effort. It all is surreal since the pandemic rages on while Cruz and others indulge themselves. It is as if my neighbor’s house is on fire, his next-door neighbor is watching the Super Bowl.

 

                                                        Guns

I liked the smell of gunpowder. I was a 12-year-old camper at North woods on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire.  Riflery was one of our activities,  and we shot 22's to earn NRA badges. Target shooting was fun. 

 

My next experience with guns was with neighbors or relatives who hunted deer. TV heroes saved western towns by shooting straight and putting bad guys six feet under the ground. Soldiers fought wars with guns. However, I never knew anyone who carried a weapon regularly.

 

Later in life, I knew a couple of psychologists who carried guns, behavior which seemed unnecessary. Perhaps they were frustrated G-men. We all knew criminals had guns, but ordinary citizens? Not really.

 

I fired all kinds of weapons in the military, and I knew wars were primarily won by who had the most firepower. In my mind, there was a clear distinction between military weaponry and arms sold at places like Big Five and Cabela's. 

 

In the 1970s, the NRA began moving its focus from guns for sports activities to gun owners' rights. Whereas good guys once were badge-toting brave men, now they were independent agents standing for truth and justice. The right to protect and defend was the package the NRA was selling. Eventually, they merged this idea with the conservative movement. Being rich with money from the gun industry, the NRA began donating vast sums to political campaigns. They gave thirty million dollars to the Trump campaign.

 

Aside from the political machinations, think about guns from a common-sense point of view. Who needs an assault rifle? The name says it all. I said at one time, "I need my AR-15 to go to the supermarket." Of course, now the gun-freedom-people will say, "Yes, you do. Look what happened in Boulder." Unfortunately, their argument is circular. With no limits on assault rifles, sooner or later, a 

troubled person will buy one and go on a shooting rampage. If no one had them, there would be no mass shootings. 

 

I think the constitution's architects would be aghast with the management of firearms in today's world. In past times, guns were tools in everyday life. They weren't ends in themselves to be used to intimidate and express rage. 

 

 Ron Johnson

 

Ron Johnson, the Republican Senator from Wisconsin, is becoming known as a man who speaks his mind. That might be positive, but unfortunately, his mind seems to have made a right turn some time ago and become lost in the wilderness.

 

on the Joe Pag radio show on arch 11, Johnson said,

 

“Even though those thousands of people that were marching to the Capitol were trying to pressure people like me to vote the way they wanted me to vote, I knew those were people that love this country, that truly respect law enforcement, would never do anything to break the law, and so I wasn’t concerned.”

 

He went on to say,

 

Now, had the tables been turned-Joe, this could get me in trouble-had the tables been turned, and President Trump won the election and those were tens of thousands of Black Lives Matter and Antifa protestors, I might have been a little concerned.”

 

It is hard to believe that a long-term politician would utter the above words. What was he thinking, or perhaps the better question would be, why wasn’t he thinking? He said these words in  March, long after the storming of the Capitol. Doesn’t he understand that his “patriots”  caused 140 people to be injured and five deaths? “Never do anything to break the law”: what is he talking about?

 

His second statement is racist and demonstrates what Black people have been saying for a long time. Black is dangerous, white not so much. 

 

A staunch ally of Trump, Johnson claimed voter fraud. Remarkably, he asserted that Nancy Pelosi might have been involved in the storming of the Capitol. In addition to rejecting climate change, he opposed the affordable care act and called witness before his Senate committee, who held odd ideas about Covid19. He recently held up the Relief Bill passage by forcing a reading of the entire bill,  a ten-hour task.

 

I often wonder what people like Ron Johnson think their job is. The country is suffering economically, educationally, psychologically, and spiritually from a devastating pandemic. 77% of all voters are behind the relief bill. He is not. He plays mental gymnastics with the truth to promote his political agenda. He is self-serving and out of touch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

Being President

 

 

In light of the current crisis in our country, there has been much talk about the office of the presidency. Many have criticized Mr. Trump and many have supported him. It might be helpful to think out loud about what qualities a president should have to be effective.

 

A president should not only be intelligent but also well educated. To make sound decisions one must have an understanding of the world and its history. Not everyone can be an expert in all countries, but he or she should bring in people who are knowledgeable about certain areas of the world. John Kennedy surrounded himself with professors and highly skilled people. Ted Kennedy held seminars at friends’ homes in which he invited world experts to educate him about international issues. Obviously, such functioning takes a certain amount of humility on the part of the politician.

 

One would think that all presidents would have a strong work ethic. Most presidents are devoted around the clock to the job. George Bush Jr. was an exception as is Mr. Trump. Kennedy and Johnson seemed to thrive on their job: Trump does not. One wonders if he really wants to be doing the job of president.

 

JFK seemed to have the right temperament to be a president. He was cool under fire, didn’t get rattled easily, and used his sense of humor to deal with adversity. The press loved him, though they didn’t go easy on him. He wasn’t impulsive, he thought through situations, and he was open to counsel. He handled his wealth with taste.

 

Mr. Trump on the other hand is volatile, impulsive, and scattered. He rejects the wisdom of more experienced government people, though he has never held public office. “Stop tweeting”, his advisors say, but he continues. He doesn’t seem to understand the benefit of diplomacy. If Kennedy was a 12-meter yacht, Trump is a John Deere Bulldozer. If Obama was a Maserati, Trump is an 18-wheeler. 

 

Presidents need to be able to connect with people. Trump likes wealthy businessmen as friends, and though he claims to be a hero of the working man, one has to wonder in light of his lifestyle and long history of not paying people who worked on his projects. His crudeness appeals to a certain segment of the population, but many find him boorish. Kennedy was an international “rock star”, who drew large crowds to hear him speak. Trump brings protestors.