Is the Trump Card the Race Card? ALIPAC Draws Spades and Passes Me Clubs

gheen

We’re supposed to be angry, but we’re supposed to come together and not vilify our likely standard-bearer… and so on. How about a dose of honesty?

I should probably give up blogging—or at least community service.

In the only two blogposts that I have had time to write since the new year began, I have spectacularly wasted my time.  One effort was a bid to publicize the case of an Iranian Christian who had emigrated to Germany only to find herself and her flock (for she claimed to be a minister) threatened with death by “refugees”.  I was instructed to cease and desist by the Reverend after my scribbles began to draw attention (a worry that hadn’t seemed to dissuade her from denouncing Diskriminierung in the streets of Frankfurt and posting the diatribe on YouTube).  In retrospect, I admit that I didn’t think through what kind of help—other than generous donations—was being solicited. I had been swept away by a lady in distress.  In fact, Germans of the fully mainstream variety are being harassed in their own cities by their own countrymen at least as brutally as this “female immigrant pastor”.  (Cf. the experience of Dr. Lother Gassmann’s family related in a letter to Peter Homes.  Family groups including women, children, and grandparents participating in a peaceful demonstration on behalf of their traditions were pursued by gangs of leftist thugs as the police melted into the woodwork: the demonstrators’ red balloons made them easy targets as they fled to train depots.)

Now the “pastor in distress” adventure reminds me of the year I coached a baseball team on the “wrong” side of town.  Upon protesting games scheduled late on school nights, I was shouted at—on two separate occasions—by younger men with probably fifty pounds on me.  Turns out that the cash taken in by the concession stand was substantially supplementing their income, tax-free.

So last week in this space, I try to plug William Gheen’s Americans for Legal Immigration PAC, which was teetering on the verge of insolvency despite a membership in the tens of thousands (two thirds of which professes Trumpista sympathies).  Well, whaddya know?  ALIPAC managed to squeak by at the eleventh hour… and then, the next morning, Mr. Gheen threw its collective support behind Donald Trump.  Foolish me! I thought we were trying to get the word out about Marco Rubio!

The French verb tromper, by the way, means “to deceive”.  But if Trump is a master-chameleon, he remains just one among a vast cast of impersonators, imposters, and con artists surrounding us. Trust at any level, and in any venue, has become almost impossible to muster.

I marveled, therefore, at the stunning gullibility of Mr. Gheen’s very polite reply to my letter informing him that I could no longer support ALIPAC.  His insurmountable antipathy to Ted Cruz, he claimed, was rooted in a document published eleven years ago and signed by Heidi Cruz, among many others. The odious publication at issue, “Building a North American Community”, dared to suggest that we might halt the flood of Mexicans across our border by easing commercial exchanges between the US, Mexico, and Canada in such a way that working conditions and safety would improve south of the Bravo.  You may recall that Rick Perry had also promoted this initiative (displaying a Trump-like affection for Eminent Domain along the way) before recognizing its political toxicity.  I didn’t care for the plan’s details, personally; but the notion of helping to settle down Mexico’s corrupt and incompetent political scene has merit, it seems to me.

But not to Mr. Gheen, apparently. “While ALIPAC appreciates Cruz’s promises to also enforce immigration laws and campaign focus on illegal immigration, revelations that his wife Heidi Cruz is a signatory to the Council on Foreign Relations document ‘Building a North American Community’ disqualifies anyone in the Cruz family from occupying the White House.”  The Heidi Peril is so great that we are better advised to trust a man who unveiled his “touchback amnesty” only seven months—not eleven years—ago.

Is this naiveté?  Is it naiveté when an octogenarian and worldly-wise Pat Buchanan writes of entrusting Supreme Court nominations to Trump, “Yet, surely, a President Trump, hearing the clamor of those who elected him to find a Scalia, would be responsive?”  Oh, surely so, Patrick!  After all, Mr. Trump has ever shown himself to be sensitive to the will of his constituents!  Well, okay—he’s never had any constituents; but we may rest assured that he would be thus pliable after election, for dutifully, humbly yielding to the claims that his supporters have upon him is among the man’s most prominent virtues…

No, wait… what? Donald Trump?

At the very least, I should be able to console myself that I am not the most gullible fool on the planet.  Both Mr. Gheen and Mr. Buchanan are far more brilliant than I, and they believe implicitly that Trump will cut no deals regarding his border fence. They perhaps even believe that whatever construction company is awarded the contract will have no connection to Trump.

No.  Wait.

Wait.  Look at the states that Cruz won on Super-Tuesday: Texas (large Hispanic population) and then Oklahoma and Alaska (large Native American population).  Then look at the SEC states—Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee—that many of us thought might break for Cruz, but which Trump dominated.  And place Arkansas on the edge.  What outline is the map sketching for us?

I realized after publishing my previous post that I had begun to make a point and then backed away from it.  I remarked that Trump voters in NC had identified the Syrian refugees as a preemptive concern—this despite the fact that there are few such refugees on American soil at the moment and many more exigent concerns that a thoughtful person should have (such as the abuse of Constitutional powers that allows a tyrannical president to shuttle refugees around at will and the corruption of a Congress that will not halt such abuse).  Why would Trumpistas throughout the South be so obsessed by expatriate Syrians; and why were they so fed up with illegal Mexican visitors, for that matter, that four years ago they abandoned surging Georgian heavyweight Newt Gingrich like an ebola-infected rag when he spoke of showing clemency to long-time residents with clean records?

I really don’t know Mr. Gheen at all; but why have I so often been forced to defend Pat Buchanan’s “demography is destiny” comments over the years? Why does he make them? Aren’t Christians supposed to believe in free will, and aren’t Americans supposed to believe that every man and woman is naturally endowed with an attraction to self-governance? What’s the big deal about DNA?

Understand this. I get the general dismay at our social collapse, and I share it. There’s reason for any civilized person to resent our invasion from the south. I happened to watch an episode of Homicide Hunter this week that I will briefly recap as follows. Idiot Sister is found brutally murdered in a public park, and though her body has substantially decomposed, the stick projecting from a certain bodily cavity leaves no doubt that she was also brutally raped. When Grieving Sister is informed, she and Clueless Daughter are duly distraught. Idiot Sister was of such diminished capacity that she was never left alone ordinarily, but Grieving Sister had been forced to take the late shift on that fateful night. Clueless Daughter confides to Detective Kenda that her mom’s Creepy Boyfriend has a key to the house and would sometimes feed Idiot Sister alcohol on a lark. Since alcohol was found in the corpse’s system, Kenda looks up Creepy Boyfriend at a local pool hall and bar, where he and Scumbag Sidekick spend most of their lives. Both admit that they went to Grieving Sister’s digs on the night in question, but they also insist (surprise) that no one was home. Scumbag went somewhere else to flop and Boyfriend slept it off on a couch. Dead end.

A few weeks later, however, Scumbag Sidekick is wounded in the leg and his Hapless Cousin shot dead in the parking lot of the same pool hall/bar. Kenda gets a lead on the shooter and takes him into custody at the house of… Clueless Daughter, who turns out to be Hothead Shooter’s wife! Hothead explains that he had meant to exact revenge for Idiot Sister’s murder, and had killed Hapless Cousin (arrived in the US only two days earlier) by accident. It becomes clear at last that Creepy Boyfriend and Scumbag Sidekick, both thoroughly soused, had found Idiot Sister alone in the house, plied her with booze, taken her to the park to rape her, and then shut her up permanently. Yet Kenda can round up neither of the perps; for Scumbag has disappeared upon discharge from the hospital, and Boyfriend has returned to the land of his fathers. Eventually, years later, Scumbag turns up dead. Boyfriend also has a rendezvous with justice. Unable to stay away from the land of infinite generosity, he is detected working a Social Security scam. The SS office informs him that several checks stolen from him by an identity thief (nice touch!) await him downtown, he takes the bait, and the taxpayer is now supporting him in the slammer.

All characters in this drama were from Mexico, and few if any seem to have been full and legal American citizens. Such grotesque stories used to occur once a year, or even once a decade, in many of our municipalities. Now they are commonplace. People are angry, and they want it to stop.

Yet please understand this, too.  I’m as sick as you are of being called a bigot, a racist, a Klansman, and a Nazi because I don’t like Barack Obama or because I think voters should be legal citizens with valid ID’s.  I want to punch somebody in the nose on occasion.  Remember, I watched a couple of healthy, muscled-up black men scam their local Little League and cripple children’s scholastic performance at the same time.  I don’t need any lectures on the victimizing of the oppressed by the privileged.

But, in my less naive moments, I can smell the odor of ancient, rotting attitudes in the breath of the Trump mob.  To some of them, at least, Cruz is “one of those”—just as he is a filthy, Castro-hating Cuban to the Far Left.  And the Near Left has always always had this much in common with the Far Left: it picks bad guys, villains, black hats.  It identifies and stigmatizes “those without whose presence everything would be fine again”.  Smokers, soldiers, gun-owners… conservatives, businessmen, religious people… whites, blacks, Mexicans.  More and more, I am suspecting that some of Trump’s dazzling, riotous support comes from those who usually vote Democrat, and who recognize in him the familiar old Colonel Gloridays who clambers upon the soapbox and denounces those strangers who’ve moved in on the edge of town.  As I studied the immense line snaking out the door of my polling place on Tuesday, I saw a shockingly diverse mix.  They—we—are supposed to be angry this year.  That’s what we’ve been told, over and over.  But angry about what?  About the murder of constitutional government by a privileged elite—or about the snitching of our goodies by Johnny-come-lately’s?

I know what’s making me really angry, at the moment: that all those charges of being a bigot, racist, Klansman, and Nazi flung at my side of the political divide will become a little bit justified if Donald Trump is allowed to step over here.

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