Of course it's terrible according to Repubs
[QUOTE=DramaFree11;2690449]Let's revisit this in 6-12 months. The economy is in terrible shape, I just hope things to not get too bad. You guys are totally clueless and in denial, this is just not good news.[/QUOTE]Repubs consider that kind of outcome for the American worker to be "economic disaster"!
Better to have even higher inflation along with 8. 5% Unemployment heading to ten consecutive months of 10%+ Unemployment Rates like we had in Reagan's second and third year in office, the Repub standard for economic policy success.
The democrats love the war machine and it loves them!
[QUOTE=GDreams;2690251]That's because Republicans and Evangelicals think Jesus would approve of their behaviour. Won't they be disappointed when they find he has come to cleanse them away. No more stealing from the poor and giving to the rich, no more adultery, no more lying, no more corruption, no more breaking the law and getting away with it, no more phoney wars and supporting dictators, imagine how much nicer the world will be.[/QUOTE][URL]https://www.newsmax.com/us/rand-paul-antony-blinken-ukraine-russia/2022/04/26/id/1067391/[/URL]
[URL]https://www.heritage-history.com/site/hclass/secret_societies/ebooks/pdf/butler_racket.pdf[/URL]
The GOP Leader's Cognitive Impairment, Part Infinity
How many hours did Trump have to rehearse and practice saying the name of his own goofy social platform doomed to lose millions of dollars of other people's money in order to come up with "troth truth sential", whatever the hell that is?
[B]Video shows Donald Trump struggling to say the name of his own social media platform, Truth Social[/B]
[URL]https://www.businessinsider.com/video-shows-trump-struggling-to-name-his-truth-social-platform-2022-4?amp[/URL]
[QUOTE]Former President Donald Trump appeared to forget the name of his own social media platform this weekend.
In Ohio, Trump was heard bungling the name of Truth Social, calling it "Truth Central" instead.
At the same rally, Trump messed up the pronounciation of "drop box" too, calling them "drok boxes."[/QUOTE]And "drok boxes" must be where he hid all those Infrastructure Week proposals and ideas that never materialized year after year for 4 miserable years of Great Do Nothing Repub Crap Production at his failed golf resorts on the American taxpayers' tab.
Indict the top execs (more foreign nationals?) for election tampering
[QUOTE=EihTooms;2690562]Repubs consider that kind of outcome for the American worker to be "economic disaster"!
Better to have even higher inflation along with 8. 5% Unemployment heading to ten consecutive months of 10%+ Unemployment Rates like we had in Reagan's second and third year in office, the Repub standard for economic policy success.[/QUOTE]And maybe it will stop.
[URL]https://www.newsmax.com/newsmax-tv/ronna-mcdaniel-rnc-gmail-republicans/2022/04/27/id/1067467/[/URL]
Your projection was so outrageous
[QUOTE=GDreams;2690251]That's because Republicans and Evangelicals think Jesus would approve of their behaviour. Won't they be disappointed when they find he has come to cleanse them away. No more stealing from the poor and giving to the rich, no more adultery, no more lying, no more corruption, no more breaking the law and getting away with it, no more phoney wars and supporting dictators, imagine how much nicer the world will be.[/QUOTE]I need a 2nd reply.
Adultery? And lying under oath about adultery whilst in the White House and being whilst being deposed for being sued for sexual harassment of an employee.
Good thing that POS never needed that worthless law license, because he was disbarred after being impeached for perjury!
In the stillness of Sunday mornings, the young Bill Clinton would walk alone down the sidewalks of his home town of Hot Springs, Ark. , clutching a leather-bound Bible in his hand. His teachers thought he might become a renowned evangelist in the fashion of Billy Graham, the preacher who once received an envelope containing young Clinton's donation of hard-saved nickels and dimes.
Although his parents seldom attended church, Clinton recalls a burning need to be there. "It was an important part of my life," he said recently. "It was moral instruction. . . Trying to get closer to being a good person and understanding what life was all about. I really looked forward to it every Sunday, getting dressed up and walking that mile or so alone. "
Clinton's dutiful marches through Hot Springs to worship at Park Place Baptist Church appear especially distant this year through the lens of a presidential campaign in which he first became defined by the moral negative of infidelity. Yet many of the contradictions of the man who grew up to be governor of Arkansas, and who now stands 16 days away from becoming the Democratic nominee for president, can be better understood in the context of the lifelong religious and spiritual journey that began there.
The places and people that have helped shape his values provide an additional backdrop against which to consider the central tensions of Clinton the politician -- his desire to please versus his will to prevail; his competing liberal and conservative impulses; his personal empathy versus his carefully calculated public agenda.
For those who see Clinton as a political chameleon who changes colors depending on his environment, his religious experience suggests an alternative explanation. Not only is he a graduate of a Jesuit college who regularly attends a southern Baptist church and attends Pentecostal revivals every summer, celebrating with fundamentalists who speak in tongues, but he is married to a Methodist who attends a different church in Little Rock.
"he seems supportive and interested in all faiths," said the Rev. James Lumpkin, a Pentecostal minister.
During his presidential campaign this year, Clinton occasionally has mentioned God in his speeches, and during Sunday visits to black churches has displayed his knowledge of Scripture. He even has defined some of his policy notions in religious lexicon, labeling, for instance, his economic plan a "covenant" -- a word more frequently used to describe an agreement between humans and God, not humans and government.
But Clinton rarely has tried to make religion a part of his public persona, as another southern Democratic candidate, Jimmy Carter, once did. Clinton's mother, Virginia Kelley, remembers that since his college years, he has shown disdain for people who play up their religion. "he would turn off the TV angrily whenever a beauty contestant said her success was due to Jesus Christ," she recalled.
It may have been the moralist streak in Clinton, more than youthful rebellion, that pushed him against the prevailing tide of segregation in the South of the 1950's, although not far enough to send him to the front lines of the civil rights struggle. And by his own account, and that of his friends and family, it was this same moralist streak that strongly influenced his views on the Vietnam War a decade later.
When Clinton faced the issue of military service, however, another consideration loomed equally large -- his political ambition.
That was not the last instance in which Clinton observers detected an underlying tension between pious idealism and practical ambition. His ambivalence on other social issues, such as abortion and the death penalty, with which he was forced to deal after he had become a politician, reflect the same conflict.
In those cases, Clinton says he sought to reconcile the tension by applying the religious world to the political one. The public positions he now holds on abortion (he favors abortion rights) and capital punishment (he supports it) were formed after consultation with a minister who instructed him directly from Scripture, telling him it prohibited neither and that he should make his own judgment.
"he has a lot of self-doubt for someone who is so sure of himself. The self-doubt manifests itself in his seeking validation for his decisions," said Betsey Wright, the Arkansas governor's former chief of staff and now a campaign aide. "At some level, he's never thought he's worthy of the success he's had. His reluctance to talk about himself reflects his doubt about whether his story is worth it -- but he does feel that what he does for other people is worth it. "
At the same time, there is an optimism in Clinton that those who know him say also springs from religious experience. His spiritual mentors have never been the fire-and-brimstone sort, but stressed the essential goodness of humankind and fostered his urge toward political reconciliation.
"he's a Baptist and he believes in deathbed conversions," said former Arkansas legislator David Matthews. "he thinks that if you give him enough time, he can bring anyone around. "
Cultural Contradictions.
All the contradictions of human behavior were on display in the Hot Springs of Clinton's youth. Sin and saintliness, betting parlor and church, were side by side, attracting in many cases the same clientele. The restorative springs from which the town drew its name attracted thousands of tourists from the North as well as hucksters, con artists and hustlers who bought off the local politicians and ran the largest illegal gambling enterprise in the South.
The line between piety and hypocrisy seems thinner in small towns, where neighbors know one another's flaws, but what made Hot Springs unusual was that it combined small-town faith with worldly tolerance.
On the one hand, Clinton went to public schools where passages from the Bible were read over the loudspeaker every morning and where local ministers came for assemblies. "The people of Arkansas are almost puritanical in their belief," said Edith Irons, Clinton's guidance counselor at Hot Springs High School. "I guess you couldn't read Scripture over the loudspeaker now, with the laws and all, but we did it when Bill was coming up. Bill would read them himself. "
On the other hand, the town had a sophistication unlike anywhere else in Arkansas. "The kids from other parts of Arkansas always looked at you if you were from Hot Springs a little askance," Clinton said. "They thought, 'Those people are a little fast and loose because of the gambling and the cosmopolitan nature of the community. ' "
Hot Springs was segregated during Clinton's years there. Whites and blacks attended separate high schools and swam in separate pools. Clinton rejected segregation as an 11-year-old, telling his mother that he was disgusted by the way whites in his state reacted to the integration of Little Rock Central High. He was not part of any larger movement then. He knew few black people. Civil rights were never the focus of sermons at Park Place Baptist Church. But, said Carolyn Staley, a high school classmate, "His interpretation of what it meant to be a good person, a good Christian, led him to reject racism. "
Bob Haness, another classmate who is now a psychologist in Atlanta, said Clinton was not unique: "I don't remember any of us being involved in civil rights demonstrations," Haness said. "But most of us were liberals on racial issues and most of us still are. I attribute it to the moral culture of Hot Springs. "
The Jesuit Perspective.
After graduating from Hot Springs High in 1964, Clinton entered Georgetown University intent on becoming a diplomat. It was the only university he applied to after he learned of its foreign service school. That the institution was run by Catholics had little meaning for him until one day after logic class when his philosophy professor, Hentz, invited the young Arkansan to dinner.
"So we're having dinner," Clinton later recalled, "and he looks at me and says, 'I think you should seriously consider becoming a Jesuit. I've been reading your papers. '
"And I said, 'Well, don't you think I oughta become a Catholic first?
"he said, 'What do you mean?
"I said, 'I'm not a Catholic. I'm a southern Baptist. '
"he said, 'I don't believe you. I've been reading your papers. You couldn't write this stuff if you weren't a Catholic. ' "
Clinton did not convert at Georgetown, but he absorbed the perspective of many of the school's father-professors, which turned out to be more catholic than Catholic. During his freshman year, he took a course on comparative religions -- the students called it Buddhism for Baptists -- taught by the Rev. Joseph Sebes, a Hungarian-born priest fluent in 12 languages. Sebes left an indelible mark on Clinton and his classmates.
"I got a feel from Father Sebes for what I believe is the innate religious nature of human beings," Clinton said. "We went through all these cultures and all their religions and no matter how different they were, it was obvious they all had a hunger to find some meaning in their lives beyond the temporal things that consume most of us through most of our days. I really developed an immense appreciation for that. "
During his time at Georgetown, Clinton slowly turned against the war in Vietnam. It was not simply a case of going with the flow of his generation, according to those who knew him. Of his five closest university friends, four supported the war and later fought in it. Four of his classmates at Hot Springs High were killed in Vietnam, including Bert Jeffries, his buddy at Park Place Baptist Church and the son of his Sunday school teacher, A. Be. Jeffries. "My antiwar feelings were particularly painful to me at first," Clinton said. "Because I never really was antimilitary in the sense a lot of people were."
Clinton's classmates at Georgetown and later at Oxford University in England, where he studied for two years as a Rhodes scholar, say his opposition to the war was based on morality, not cowardice. They believe the basis of his appeal has been ignored during the controversy this year over whether he tried to dodge the draft in 1969 by enlisting in an ROTC program at the University of Arkansas law school, which he never attended.
"The war was our constant preoccupation," said Doug Eakeley, Clinton's housemate at Oxford. "In every discussion with Bill, there was almost no mention of how to get out of the draft, but much about the immorality of the war and the draft. It was principled, almost religious, with him, from his anguish within."
Yet in the Dec. 3, 1969, letter of anguish to the University of Arkansas ROTC director, Col. Eugene Holmes, that sent his campaign reeling when it became public last winter, Clinton explained that in the end, he had decided to suppress his moral opposition to the war and expose himself to the draft. He wrote: "I decided to accept the draft in spite of my beliefs for one reason: to maintain my political viability within the system."
In a letter that was otherwise articulate and moving, that phrase about political viability clanged a dissonant note, and it has haunted Clinton throughout this election year. To one of his most severe and vocal critics, Paul Greenberg, now editorial editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette in Little Rock, it epitomized not simply a set of conflicting instincts, but a tendency to equivocate. "That letter was an embryonic formulation," said Greenberg, "of all the moral vacillation that was to follow."
A Counselor and Mentor.
From his years at Oxford through Yale law school and up through his election as attorney general of Arkansas in 1976 at age 30, Clinton said he was an "uneven churchgoer for a long time. " When he moved to Little Rock and began making decisions that affected millions of lives, he said, his need to return to church was as strong as the impulse that took him on those lonesome walks through Hot Springs as a boy. Clinton, whose father died in an automobile accident before he was born, joined Immanuel Baptist Church of Little Rock and struck up a friendship with the Rev. Worley Oscar Vaught. By the time Vaught died of bone cancer on Christmas Day three years ago, he had become the father Clinton never had.
"Rev. Vaught and I were so different in so many ways, yet we had so much in common," Clinton said. "I think he instinctively knew that I needed him, and maybe in ways that I wasn't aware of. He was guiding without being judgmental. I've always had a real affinity for older men that I admire a lot. I've always wanted to be around them, listen to them, try to get strength from them."
Vaught was bald and bespectacled, a biblical scholar whose sermons came directly from Scripture. In the mid-1980's, when Clinton was struggling with the death penalty issue, Vaught visited him one day and offered spiritual guidance.
"he made his argument about why the Ten Commandments did not prohibit capital punishment," Clinton recalled. "In the ancient Hebrew and Greek he said it's 'Thou Shalt Not Murder,' which he said is not the same thing as the law of the lands applying capital punishment. He said you can make your own judgment about whether you think it's right or wrong, but he said you must never worry about whether it's forbidden by the Bible, because it isn't."
Clinton said Vaught's interpretation reaffirmed his sense that capital punishment was not a violation of Christian faith. "I just could never make myself believe that in a society as violent as ours that it was always wrong to execute somebody for what they did," he said. His decision to sign his first death warrant as governor was nonetheless the toughest moment of his political career, and one on which he broke with some close friends and advisers.
The leader of the anti-death penalty movement in Arkansas was Frances "Freddie" Nixon, a longtime Clinton friend and campaign worker whose minister husband married Clinton and his wife, Hillary. Nixon was a frequent visitor to death row and became friendly with John Swindler, an inmate who in June 1990 faced execution for the murder of a state trooper.
"The night of the execution was devastating emotionally," Nixon said. "I was at the prison and talked to John, then I left and called the governor and he told me he was not going to be able to grant clemency. On the one hand, there was John, who was my friend and I cared for him very much, and he was about to be executed, and there was Bill, who I liked very much and he was the one who could stop it but wouldn't. I felt torn by sadness for both of them."
Nixon said her sadness for Clinton came because she felt that "deep in his heart of hearts, he wasn't for the death penalty, but it was just something that he had to do politically."
Of Nixon's contention that his motivation was political, Clinton said: "Freddie has to believe that, she hates it so much. I remember when Freddie called me about John Swindler. It was awful. She's one of the most wonderful people I've ever known. She's an incredible human being, and all I could think to tell her was that if everybody in the world were like her, I would be opposed to the death penalty."
He had "gone at the question a thousand ways" over the years, Clinton said, and had "never been in a position of absolute opposition" to the death penalty. "I remember being ambivalent about it," he said. "But never strong against it."
Vaught also helped Clinton resolve his feelings about abortion, telling the governor that his understanding of the Bible in Hebrew was that it did not prohibit abortion in all circumstances. "he read the meaning of life and birth and personhood in words which literally meant 'to breathe life into,' so he thought the most literal meaning of life in the Bible would be to conclude that it began at birth," Clinton said. "It didn't mean that it was right all the time or that it wasn't immoral, but he didn't think you could say it was murder."
Clinton did not use Vaught to set all the parameters of his spiritual world for him. Starting in the late 1970's, Clinton has made summer pilgrimages to campground meetings of the state's Pentecostal community, drawn by their emotional music. His bond with the Pentecostals deepened in the days after his defeat in 1980, when three Pentecostal ministers visited him at the mansion, told him they loved him even if he lost, and held hands and prayed with him.
Every year since, Clinton has devoted a day in July to attend the Pentecostal revivals in Redfield, a small town south of Little Rock. Vaught would often rail against the Pentecostals for their emotionalism, especially their proclivity for speaking in tongues. But Clinton could move in both worlds. "My tie with the Pentecostals is emotional," he said. "I love those people because they live by what they say. They live their religion."
Just as he did as a boy, Clinton now attends his Baptist church alone. His wife, Hillary, is a member of the First Methodist Church of Little Rock. A few years ago, the Clintons took their daughter, Chelsea, 11, to both churches and let her decide which denomination felt more comfortable. She became a Methodist.
When Vaught was dying, Clinton visited him often, once bringing along his childhood idol, Billy Graham. Clinton had not realized how much he would come to miss the minister. During his darkest days on the campaign trail, Clinton deeply longed for Vaught. "I wished so much that I could just go in there and talk to him," Clinton said.
Vaught's son, Carl Gary Vaught, chairman of the philosophy department at Penn State University, said his father would have been a steadying influence this year. "My father was never under any delusion that people aren't real people," he said. "And as I remember the way he would often put it, he was always too acutely aware of the wrinkles in his own life to spend very much time focusing on the wrinkles in others."
Late one recent night, as his campaign plane carried him home to Little Rock from the West Coast, Clinton sat in the darkness, formulating an answer to the question: What was the deepest moral challenge he had faced in his life?
"The biggest moral challenge is trying to live by what you believe in every day," he said. "I think it's the failures of daily life that often grind people down, and leave them so disappointed with themselves. That's something I've tried to come to grips with, getting older and really trying to consider the moral implications of everything I did. . . . I basically believe life is a continual search for real integrity, literally integration, trying to put your mind and your body and your spirit in the same place at the same time. And I find it still an enormous challenge."
Clinton rose and ambled up the aisle to his seat at the front. A half-hour later he returned with one final thought. He had forgotten to mention that in recent years he and his wife, Hillary, had plunged into deep discussions about what it meant to live a good life and the nature of life after death.
Did he believe in life after death?
"Yeah, I have to," Clinton said. "I need a second chance."