Monthly Archives: February 2017

Joe Pickett novels: book(s) review

I’ve been reading a lot lately. Not writing, actually, as followers of this blog will have noticed; hand cramps. But I’ve always loved good books, and I’ve come across a writer and a series that are real corkers. And so I’m here to tell you about them.

Joe Pickett is a game warden, living in Saddlestring, a small town in Wyoming. He absolutely loves his job; loves hiking and horseback riding, loves hunting and (especially) fly fishing. He even enjoys riding into hunting camps and checking everyone’s hunting licenses. And Joe’s a good guy. Bit of a doofus sometimes, but devoted to his hyper-competent wife, Marybeth, and his three daughters. And the various horses and dogs that fill out the Pickett household.

He’s also exceptionally good at solving murders. In fact, he’s a bit like Miss Marple; his home community is an amazingly murderous place. But because he’s of that community, a local in good standing, he’s able to notice vagaries of behavior (or misbehavior) that suggest, well, untoward acts.

Miss Marple, though, sat back and ever-so-keenly, observed. Joe blunders into various fraught situations, has misadventures, and somehow survives them. He makes a lot of mistakes. But he’s so good-hearted, so resolutely honest, he wins our heart, and he solves a lot of crimes. He’s also aided by his best friend, Nate Romanowski, a former Special Ops whiz now living as a master falconer/off-the-grid survivalist, an exceptional shot with an oddball huge pistol. Who enjoys climbing trees in the nude, and communing, underwater, with fish. Nate’s a tremendous character, a wonderful sidekick.

And from time to time Joe’s asked to investigate some remote corner of the state by Wyoming’s flamboyant and eccentric Governor Rulon. The governor is Joe’s protector, though he could also teach a master class in plausible deniability. But his heart’s occasionally in the right place, and though he’s devious and unreliable, he’s also the reason Joe manages to keep his job. (Among other peccadilloes, Joe is terrible at getting along with sheriffs. Or, mostly, the FBI. Or bureaucrats of all stripes).

Joe’s also very bad with trucks. It’s a running joke in the series; how many state-issued trucks he ruins. Never mind, though; Governor Rulon generally gets him a new one.

Oh, yes, I forgot one of the series’ most memorable characters; Joe’s mother-in-law, Missy. She’s beautiful, well groomed and sleek, and also an utter sociopath. Her superpower is marrying up. She finds a wealthy man, seduces him, marries him, gets her attorney to draw up a pre-nup leaving the man’s fortune to her, and then she’s off to hunt down the next, even richer one. When necessary, she also has been known to add homicide to her repertoire. She also thinks her daughter Marybeth is too good for Joe, and urges Marybeth to divorce the bumpkin. Which she never does; not even tempted; Joe and MB are solid. Still, what fun during family holidays.

The Joe Pickett series is written by a Wyoming native named C. J. Box, who is, as it happens, also married with three daughters. And they’re wonderful fun.

I’m completely bonkers over these novels, as you may have guessed by the fact that I’ve devoured seventeen of them in two weeks. They’re exciting, beautifully paced, genuinely mysterious. And Box’s prose, though generally sturdy and straightforward, has lovely moments of genuine lyricism.

I like the books, in part, because I’m a Westerner myself, and recognize the landscapes and people he so memorably describes. But I’m also a political animal, and each of the books has a political dimension. Of course, one of the main characters is a Governor, so there’s some partisanship built into his interactions with the other characters. But many of the mysteries also have politics at the periphery (or at times, even the center) of their stories. Environmentalists are frequently villains in the novels, but not always, and Joe’s something of an environmentalist himself.

But I like that. I like the idea that politics matters, that political disputes can be folded into the texture of a mystery series. That political differences can even lead to violence, at times.

I imagine that Joe’s position on gun control is pretty resolutely Wyoming–Joe owns a number of guns, with which he’s frequently called upon to defend himself. As he’s fond of saying, “it’s about to get real Western around here.” And violence ensues. Just like it does for the Good Guys in most detective novels.

But Joe’s not a detective. He’s a game warden. And a terrifically drawn and utterly compelling central character for a series of mystery novels.  Very very highly recommended.

Hidden Figures: Movie Review

Hidden Figures is a pretty good film on an absolutely tremendous subject. Viewing it, you’re overwhelmed by the story and the acting and the musical score, and some outstanding characterizations; that’s the initial impression. And then its impact fades, and the weaknesses of its comparatively pedestrian screenplay come to the forefront. It’s a story about the early years of NASA and the space program and the civil rights movement, and the contributions of some extraordinary women. That’s enough to carry the movie, at least initially.

In the early 1960s, the Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia was tasked with computing the trajectories for the rockets and space capsules of the Mercury space program. A lot of those calculations were done by ‘computers.’ A ‘computer’ back then wasn’t understood to be a machine, but a person; someone with math skills, who could quickly and accurately do calculations. They had a machine too, what we would call a computer, only they called it an IBM. And nobody knew how to use it.

The Langley site was strictly segregated, with a West building for African-American ‘computers,’ almost all of them women, and an East building for the main NASA scientists, all of them white men. The film tells the story of Mary Jackson (Janelle Monae), Dorothy Vaughan (Octavia Spencer), and Katherine Goble Johnson (Taraji P. Henson), three ambitious and talented African-American women who wanted to be part of the space program, like most patriotic 1960s Americans did.

Jackson gets a job in the engineering program, designing the space capsule. She’s held back by the fact that she doesn’t have an engineering degree. There’s a program available through NASA, but she can’t quality for it until she passes a remedial class offered through night school at a local high school. A white high school. So she files a lawsuit to become the first African-American woman in a Virginia white high school class. That’s a terrific story right there, and it’s also the story that gets the least attention in this film, because the other two main stories are even better.

Dorothy Vaughan, meanwhile, is doing the work of a supervisor, but does not have the job title, seniority or salary of one. She’s been given a supervisor’s responsibilities, and has a leadership personality; she can do the job. But she’s Black; NASA doesn’t seem able to recognize her. That’s her battle; to become an supervisor. In the meantime, she teaches herself Fortran, studying IBM programming on her own time. And so she sneaks into the IBM control room, and quietly programs the machine in the evenings. And when NASA needs precise and fast calculations done, she knows how to get the computer machine working to provide them, and how to teach her ‘computers’ how to program.

Another great story, right? But the movie’s third story is the best of all. Katherine Goble (who marries mid-film and changes her name to Johnson), is a math whiz, who has skills that get her assigned to the main building, and to a team made up entirely of white men. The main mathematician there is a guy named Paul Stafford, played here by Jim Parsons. (It did rather crack me up; the idea of Sheldon Cooper as a (shudder) rocket scientist). Anyway, Stafford has no faith in her, blocks her efforts at every turn. Is he racist? Sexist? Sure, like most white dudes in 1961.

Meanwhile, the boss, the head of Langley, Al Harrison (Kevin Costner), cares about one thing only; getting astronauts into space, and back again safely. If that requires that he become a civil rights pioneer, so be it.

In one of the film’s most powerful scenes, Katherine needs to go to the bathroom at work, and the nearest colored women’s rest room is a half mile away. And so, a couple of times a day, she has to walk, in high heels, over half a mile just to take care of that most basic need. There’s a women’s restroom in the building where she works, but it’s for white women only. When an exasperated Harrison asks why she has to take such long breaks, it’s difficult for her to tell him–gender, race and workplace protocols all collide. Plus, it’s raining out, and she’s soaking. She finally does, though; she is able to speak out, and tell the truth. It’s one of the best scenes in the movie, and leads to a scene where Harrison personally rips a ‘colored’ sign off a bathroom door. Thereafter, all the women are free to use whatever restroom is closest.

There are a lot of bathroom scenes in the film, including a nice one between Spencer and Kirsten Dunst, who plays the supervisor of all NASA women at the facility. They’re both terrific in that scene, as Dunst is forced to confront her own racism in that most basic of settings.

So there’s a lot about this film to savor. Outstanding acting performances, and a powerful story; what’s not to like?

It’s just so conventional, though, and in ways that really do harm the telling of these stories. It’s a Hollywood biopic; of course, the heroines have to be superhuman, and the villains made of cardboard. This is clearest in the scenes with Katherine and the other mathematicians with whom she works. Every major breakthrough comes from her. We get the distinct impression that the mathematicians at NASA are not top talent, but in fact the remedial class in math school. There’s one scene, for example, where Katherine points out that their task is to turn the Mercury capsule’s orbit from an elliptical orbit to a parabolic orbit. I’m not kidding; the other mathematicians in the room stare at her like they’ve never heard of a parabola before. Jim Parson’s Paul Stafford literally moves his lips as he tries to figure out some calculation Katherine Johnson has put up on their communal chalkboard. Honestly, it looks like the Mercury program would be in much better shape if they fired all their white guy mathematicians, and just let the one Black lady do the whole job.

The same thing’s true of the scenes where Dorothy Vaughan figures out how to use the IBM. She’s got a library book on Fortran, and this brand new mainframe, and she figures out how to make the thing work, while the guys from IBM who are setting it up stand by, flummoxed.

Believe me, I’m not making some kind of alt-right argument about how egregiously this movie disrespects white people. Not even remotely. What I am saying is that the movie’s approach, in which Katherine Johnson is the Michael Jordan of mathematicians, and the guys she’s working with are the New York Generals ends up diminishing her actual accomplishments. Which is the better story: Black Supergenius astounds a village of idiots, or a brilliant African-American woman holds her own, and gains the respect of some of the top mathematicians in the world, and becomes their esteemed teammate and colleague? In 1961?

The truth makes a better story than a fictionalized, distorted version of the truth that this film, sadly, relies on. And I know you’ve only got two hours to tell your story, and that narratively, you need to conflate some characters or it just becomes unwieldy. I know that. But in fact, Dorothy Vaughan, Mary Jackson and Katherine Johnson were not particularly close friends, and the scientists they worked with were not dopes, and their contributions to the Mercury program, though significant and ground-breaking, were not as all-encompassing as this film makes them appear. Tell that story, the real story. They were remarkable women, and their achievements were extraordinary, especially in that time and place. They were patriotic Americans, and civil rights pioneers, and I’m thrilled that this movie got made. I just wish it were a better screenplay.

Still a fascinating, entertaining and educational piece, and well worth your time. Just not as good as it could have been, and should have been.

Lion: Movie Review

For the fourth time, my wife and I tried to see Hidden Figures, and couldn’t, because it was sold out. But we were in the mood for some filmed entertainment, and decided to see Lion instead, as an adventure, knowing essentially nothing about it.

This is rare for us. We make every effort to be informed film consumers; reading reviews, checking metacritics and rottentomatoes.com, watching trailers, referencing IMDB. This isn’t difficult or time consuming, and we feel like it’s well worth our time to make sure our movie-going dollars are well-spent. We made an exception for Lion. We knew exactly three things going in. We knew it was nominated for Best Picture. We knew it had a high rottentomatoes score (via hearsay; we didn’t look it up). And a friend on Facebook had said she was glad it was Oscar-nominated, as it was the kind of family-friendly entertainment that never gets nominated for big awards. That was it. We didn’t know who was in it, what it was about, who directed, or anything else.

The experiment was a rousing success. Lion tells a powerful, moving, human story. It’s exceptionally well filmed, written, and acted. It is one of those ‘celebration of the human spirit’ movies that ends up, on reflection, raising more troubling questions than the immediate issues it addresses. Still, I recommend it highly. And it’s possible I may have caught my eyes watering a time or two. Air quality in the theater, probably.

As the movie begins, we see two young brothers, Saroo (Sunny Pawar) and Guddu (Abhishek Bharate), climbing on and around a train somewhere in India. Saroo looks to be around 5, and Guddu is maybe 8. The train is transporting coal, which they steal, and eventually sell for two modest bags of milk. They’re poor kids, in other words, and their home is a single room about the size of a single cow stall. Their Mom (Priyanka Bose), works lugging rocks. That appears to be the only work she can find. She asks Saroo to watch his younger sister Shekila (Khushi Solanke), which Saroo complains about. There is no evidence that this anything but a loving family, but these boys aren’t in school, run around in dangerous places, and steal for food. Poverty doesn’t get much more abject.

Guddu also works, at a laborers job, and as he heads out, Saroo wants to go with him. This would leave 3-year-old Shekila alone and unsupervised, but Saroo doesn’t care; he wants to prove he’s a big boy and can work too. Finally, Guddu relents, and he and Saroo head off. They reach a train station, and Guddu tells Saroo to wait on a bench, while he goes to see about work.

And so Saroo waits. Eventually he falls asleep. Guddu does not return. A train pulls in. Saroo wakes, sees the train and is curious. It has one door open, no passengers. He climbs aboard. The one door closes, and the train begins moving.

We can see a sign informing us that the train is heading off for maintenance, and not accepting passengers. Saroo doesn’t know that, though, and for two days, he’s the only passenger as the train rockets through the Indian landscape. He finds an apple core, so he’s got that much food. Finally, the long train ride ends. He’s in Calcutta. He has no idea, though; he only speaks Hindi, and almost nobody he meets speaks anything but Bengali.  Saroo doesn’t know this, of course; he’s only five. He only knows that people talk nonsense to him, and don’t understand his responses. He’s lost in a huge, impoverished city, without money, family, any way to communicate, or any way to survive.

Somehow, he stays alive. He finds a Hindu temple, and is able to eat temple offerings. He finds the Hooghly River, and can drink from it. A nice-seeming woman, who speaks some Hindi, brings him home to her apartment and feeds him his first decent meal. But when she introduces him to her ‘friend,’ (Nawazuddin Siddiqui) a good looking guy in his forties, the boy’s creeped out, as well he might be–the guy appears to be a Fagin-type, a boy-prostitute recruiter. Saroo takes off, at a full sprint.

The first third of the movie is about this kid, this five-year old, surviving in a dangerous city, despite not speaking the language and having no resources at all except his courage, his intelligence, his instincts, and his ability to run away really fast. It’s terrifying and the sense of danger is palpable. The kid, Sunny Pawar, is absolutely terrific, but so is the filmmaking, which never lets us lose track of this one child, while also reminding us of the hundreds of thousands of impoverished and desperate children lost in the cruelty and danger of Calcutta.

Eventually, he ends up captured and placed in an orphanage. A notice is posted, with his picture, but we realize there’s no chance of his mother seeing it; and anyway, the notice is in Bengali. We see him in an orphanage school, sitting there, completely uncomprehending. But salvation awaits. An Australian family wants to adopt an Indian orphan. He’s got a new family, an ocean away.

And so, he gets on a plane, and at the airport, he meets John (David Wenham) and Sue (Nicole Kidman) Brierley. He’s going to be raised as an Aussie. He will move from abject destitution to middle-class luxury. He’s got a TV, and a sailboat. They teach him how to play cricket. He’s fine.

Not long afterward, he also gets a brother, Mantosh (Keshav Jadhav), a deeply damaged young boy, also Indian, but as troubled as Saroo is well-adjusted.

Cut ahead twenty five years, and Saroo is played by Dev Patel, and Mantosh by Divian Ladwa. And Saroo is fine. He’s in grad school, in Hotel Management. He’s met a fellow grad student, Lucy (Rooney Mara). (Manosh is still pretty screwed up). But Saroo is also discontented. He remembers his childhood, his home in India, Guddu and his Mom, the long train ride and those horrible months in Calcutta. He becomes obsessed with finding his Mom. Not that he doesn’t love his Aussie Mom; he and Sue are very close. But he can’t shake it, this need to reconnect.

He tells the other students in his program about his past, and they’re entirely supportive. And one of them suggests that he look on Google Earth. Maybe that could be a tool he could use to find his home. That’s the rest of the movie; about Saroo’s search on Google Earth for his home, and his growing obsession with finding his family.

Nicole Kidman is terrific as Sue Brierley. I think that’s one of the great acting challenges, to play a genuinely good human being. (Villains are comparatively easy). Anyway, she nails it. Rooney Mara is somewhat wasted, in this ‘world’s most supportive girlfriend’ role. Dev Patel is likewise great, though he might want to move on a bit from these ‘Indian urchin who becomes upwardly mobile’ roles. Anyway, it’s a fine movie, a glorious film debut for Garth Davis, who comes from the world of advertising, and who has another film in post-production, an as-yet untitled film about Mary Magdalene, starring Rooney Mara (with Joaquin Phoenix as Jesus).

Anyway, we took a chance on a film we knew nothing about, and feel well-rewarded for it. It’s a powerful and family-affirming film. It also reminds us that there are hundreds of thousands of desperately impoverished children all around the world, who don’t end up with a lucky second chance in the privileged West. So that’s also a thought that lingers.

Milo Yiannopoulos at Berkeley

Professional conservative provocateur Milo Yiannopoulos was invited to Berkeley to speak by the Berkeley College Republicans. Some 1500 people gathered to protest. A group of 150 masked and violent agitators attacked the protesters. Rocks were thrown; fireworks deployed. A riot broke out, and Berkeley security forces decided to cancel the event, to protect Yiannopoulos from physical harm. Those are the details I know; I’ll admit right now that I haven’t followed the story all that closely.

Nor have I followed the career of Milo Yiannopoulos very closely. (I have read that his followers generally refer to him as ‘Milo.’ So I won’t, even though it means having to type out the long and hard-to-spell ‘Yiannopolous’ over and over). Reading him would require that I go into Breitbart.com, which I am loathe to do. It’s an alt-right website; I’m not about to give them the click. As I understand it, he’s a Brit, ostentatiously gay, and absurdly good-looking. He was the head troll in Gamergate. He was banned from Twitter for harassing Leslie Jones, the actress, for having committed the unpardonable sin of getting cast in a movie. He hates ‘political correctness,’ which Breitbart seems to define as any constraints on mocking disabled people, women, or African-Americans. He’s anti-feminist, anti-immigrant, and anti-gay rights.

In short, he’s deliberately and intentionally insulting, needlessly vicious, and a self-promoter of the first order. He’s toxic, on purpose, for fun. And for profit: he just got a quarter of a million dollar book deal from Simon and Schuster. Which has done untold damage to that esteemed mainstream publisher; professional book critics have announced that they’ll boycott all Simon and Schuster books in future, other S&S authors have pulled out of their book deals; it’s a big mess. Which is great news for Yiannopoulos; like most infants, he likes causing messes.

And that’s the key to understanding the alt-right. They’re not Klan, and they’re not Klan wannabes. They’re not Nazis. They just get the giggles over using the rhetoric and style of the Klan and of Nazis, which usage they seem to regard as consequence-less. That’s Yiannopolous; when he insults feminists, he doesn’t seem to know or care if it actually harms women. It’s just how he gets his kicks.

So the Berkeley college Republicans, for fun, decided to invite the most incendiary alt-right troll on the planet. To Berkeley. They knew there would be protests. Anticipating those protests, a bunch of masked thugs launched a violent counter-protest, for kicks. Kind of like Fight Club; violence being politically incorrect, so let’s do that too.

So how should a university respond to a guy like Milo Yiannopoulos? First of all, the College Republicans were within their rights to invite a speaker to campus. And Berkeley students are within their rights protesting that invitation. As long as that protest, and that invitation live up to certain standards of civil discourse–and those standards need to be expressly stated and understood–then the University can be said to be fulfilling its main educational purpose. Invite speakers. Let them speak. Let protesters protest. Use the fact of that talk and that response to influence how teachers teach and how learners learn. Do not, ever, ban certain speakers or points of view.

And if you think it unlikely that Yiannopolous is going to say anything worth listening to (which I do), then don’t go to his speech.

What I strenuously disagree with is the idea that potentially offensive speakers should be banned from college campuses. Campuses absolutely must invite speakers, and some of those speakers are likely to hold points of view that some members of the campus community find offensive. Fine. Invite them anyway. A robust and bracing exchange of views is good for all participants.

Do you think Milo Yiannopolous is a contemptible weenie? Me too. In which case, his ideas, such as they are, won’t stand the test of time. So who cares?

Seven Countries

The President’s de facto Muslim ban was sold as a security measure, restricting entry to the US based, not on religion, but on country of origin. Nobody believes that that’s actually its intent, least of all Trump himself, who was caught on camera calling it a Muslim ban within hours of its enactment. Still, since the only possible way this particular executive order could survive judicial scrutiny was by positing it as a more effective way to vet potential threats, the various Trump apologists selling the policy have insisted it’s really just about seven specific countries which pose a terrorist threat. So let’s look at those seven nations.

Iraq and Syria: ISIS, in other words. Since June 2014, ISIS has conquered large sections of both Iraq and Syria. Syria has been embroiled in the most brutal civil war, which created a power vacuum that ISIS filled. Meanwhile, the Iraqi army’s initial response to ISIS attacks was to drop their weapons and run for safety. Why? Because the Iraqi army is Shi’ia-dominated, and the Sunni thugs in ISIS don’t believe in taking Shi’ite prisoners. Aleppo, in Syria, the second largest city in the country, is a humanitarian disaster. Three million Iraqi refugees have sought asylum in the West, mostly in Europe. Millions live in refugee camps in Jordan, which is struggling to feed them, and couldn’t without massive international help. There are literally millions of displaced Syrian and Iraqi people, desperate people, people in the most dire need of basic food, shelter and medical care. Many of the ones turned away over the weekend also helped us fight the insane war we started.

Libya: Formerly, the odious and contemptible thugocracy of Moammar Gadhafi, whose regime was toppled by Western-backed militias. Turned out those militias each had their own agendas, incompatible with Western interests, or with each other. Getting caught in the middle of that firefight was essentially at the heart of the Benghazi attack. Caught in the middle, of course, are also ordinary Libyan citizens, many of whom are resolutely pro-US. (Remember, Benghazi had a security force; a pro-American militia bodyguard. Wiped out by the terrorist attack that also took the lives of four Americans. We never talk about Libyan casualties in that battle). Libya has become a terrorist haven, but with millions of impoverished and displaced citizens. The country’s still swimming in oil, but its GDP is tanking. Vetting Libyan refugees would be a challenge, but don’t think there aren’t lots of them.

Yemen: Total basket case. Embroiled in a massive civil war. Out of a total population of 27 million, 20 million people are in need of humanitarian assistance. 3 million displaced peoples. Children starving throughout much of the country.

Somalia: Continues to be ripped apart by warring strongmen. Basically no government. A growing sanctuary for terrorists. Essentially the countries economy is driven by piracy and the cultivation and sale of qat. It’s a flowering plant of the region; chew the leaves and you can get high. Somalia does now have a (barely) functioning government in place. But it also has 12 million people living in fear for their lives.

Sudan: There’s a continuing war between the Army of Sudan and the Sudan Revolutionary Front. That’s after the war between Sudan and South Sudan ended, leading to South Sudan’s independence. Darfur remains a war zone, and represents perhaps the most prominent humanitarian crisis on the planet.

Iran: And then there’s Iran. Which has a stable government, a functioning economy, and which has troops fighting against ISIS in Syria. Iran is, in fact, a relatively prosperous and peaceable nation. For awhile they had nuclear ambitions, but as you know, the Obama administration negotiated a deal in which they suspended that program, in exchange for an end to economic sanctions. There are even a number of pro-Western Iranians.

So what we have here are six of the most screwed up nations on earth, with literally tens of millions of displaced citizens in absolutely desperate need of humanitarian assistance. And also, comparatively well-off Iran. Those are the countries Trump has targeted. Because: terrorists.

Again, another factor those seven countries share is this: the Trump organization does not have financial interests in any of them. This isn’t surprising; the President builds luxury hotels. These countries barely have functioning economies; some of them do have oil. Still, the Islamic-dominant nations that actually have a track record of attacks on US soil–Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Afghanistan–and which the Trump organization has investments, they’re not on this watch list. Conflict of interest?

There are absolutely terrorists in each of those seven countries. Those terrorists haven’t attacked the US, but of course, they could. Well, not so much Iran, but Iran supports Hezbollah. Refugees from those countries would need to be vetted.

But these are countries in which the US has tried to intervene diplomatically, with catastrophic results. These are countries with huge displaced populations, countries with millions of refugees. We’re the richest and most powerful country in the world. And we’re rather proud of our ‘national values,’ and our status as a Christian nation. And now we’ve closed the door to the “wretched refuse of (their) teeming shores.”

This is a bit of a generalization, but here goes: terrorists are fantastically good at scaring people into thinking they’re a huge threat, and absolutely horrid at actually posing such a threat. They’re great at producing terror. They’re great at making otherwise sensible people think that a war exists with someone we’re not actually at war with, and that that war must be won, no matter what. And none of that is even a little bit true. Their attacks are merely theatrically effective.

Twenty five hundred years ago, the world was a lot scarier place than it is now; infinitely more violent, every bit as full of terror. And yet God whispered to Isaiah: “Fear not; for I am with you.” And then He continued: “Be not dismayed; for I am God: I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will uphold you. All they that are angry with you will be confounded; they shall be as nothing, they shall die. They that war against you will become nothing. They will vanish.” Though Isaiah 41 does throw in a little something about people dying of starvation. Give them water to drink, he says.

Donald Trump is a bully and a coward, in addition to being a fool. His actions will accomplish nothing positive, nothing at all. Every national security expert says so; this executive action will strengthen terrorist organizations, not weaken them. As for refugees from Iraq, Sudan, Libya, Syria, Somalia, Yemen, the numbers we should be accepting should be numbered in the millions, not the thousands.

Instead of blogging about Trump’s SCOTUS pick, I spent today researching seven countries, places I’ve never visited, filled with people I’ve never met. It broke my heart. It made my spirit contrite. This executive ban is beyond contemptible. It cannot and must not be allowed to stand.