By Jim Berlin
Jane Fonda is all over American TV and the news again promoting her new hit movie This is Where I leave You
. But for me her mind and body will forever remain frozen in Hanoi, July of ’72, an NVA helmet on her head and sitting in the gunner’s seat of an antiaircraft gun.
One of the same guns used to shoot down dozens of American warplanes, resulting in the death or imprisonment of every single pilot. The photo marked the conclusion of Fonda’s North Vietnam tour in which she produced 10 radio broadcasts supporting an enemy that killed 50,000 of our sons and daughters.
Jane even met with American POW’s and reported they were being wonderfully treated. When they eventually started coming home and told the truth – they were systematically tortured – Fonda called them “hypocrites and liars.”
Her apologies for supporting an enemy during wartime were half-hearted, half-assed, decades too late and always timed with the promotion of another book or film.
And it wasn’t just war that bugged Jane – but that whole ugly democracy thing. She told University of Michigan students in a speech, “If you understood communism, you would pray on your knees that we would some day become communists.”
Hollywood, of course, never missed a beat in its embrace of Hanoi Jane. In the years after the tour she was nominated six times for Best Actress and won once. I expect that
mindlessness from Hollywood – largely a collection of America-haters. It’s the people – some who claim to be patriotic — who actually spend money to see her movies that I don’t understand.
Everybody talks about how lovely Jane looks for a 76-year-old. I wouldn’t know. To me she will always be that ugly 35-year-old traitor in the seat of an enemy antiaircraft gun.
That is where she left me. She never aged a day after that.
By Jim Berlin
I’m not saying our president has a Muslim prayer rug rolled up and hidden in one of his closets, but Islam could not have a better friend in the White House than Barack Hussein Obama.
The words “radical Islam” have never fallen from his lips. In fact to hear the president tell it there is no such thing as a Muslim who wishes to do America harm.
In the recent poll-driven speech when he pledged to eradicate ISIS (“IS” stands for Islamic State), Barack said the organization “is not Islamic” because Islam is “a religion of peace.”
What we have, then, is a president of the United States who is the only person in the world who doesn’t know that ISIS is composed entirely of Muslims.
Like I said, I’m not suggesting the man has a prayer rug in his closet, but I’m betting he has uttered more kind words for Islam since becoming president than he has for the Christian faith he claims to embrace.
Can he be a Christian and rarely attend church? Yes.
Can he be a Christian who doesn’t celebrate Christmas with his family? Yes.
Can he be a Christian if he spent 20 years in the pews of Rev. Jeremiah Wright in Chicago before the media elected him president? The same Jeremiah Wright who said Blacks should not sing “God Bless America,” but “God Damn America”? Again…yes.
Jesus has arms that open wide enough to hug all kinds of Christians.
But when members of ISIS shout “Allahu Akbar” as they cut the heads from Americans or detonate suicide vests or slaughter Christian children, rest assured that is a Muslim battle cry.
Some religion of peace. Some president.
By Jim Berlin
Baltimore Ravens star running back Ray Rice has been catching hell from the president on down after an elevator video showed him coldcocking his future bride in Atlantic City.
His football career seems over but the victim of the assault, Janay Rice, says her man has been over-penalized and together they will “show the world what real love is.”
I feel her pain. One minute she’s engaged to a multi-millionaire football star with a great left hook; the next minute she’s married to a disgraced out-of-work jock with little hope of gainful employment – but still with that great left hook.
People who live in the cocoon of civility are amazed that a woman knocked senseless by her fiancé would not only marry him, but thinks they can show the world what real love is.
The problem here is that Janay may see love from the perspective of a Black woman too-well acquainted with the sorriest segment of the young Black male community: the guys whose minds have been poisoned by rappers who tell them women are simply whores, bitches and life support systems for breasts and booties.
When you think that way about women,
it’s a short trip to coldcocking one of them in an elevator if she gets a bit too feisty. Never mind that the punch might kill her. That woman need to be learnin’ a little R-e-s-p-e-c-t.
Years ago my wife and I were double-dating with a Black couple, and the woman mentioned she had attended a family reunion the previous weekend.
“Was it fun?” my wife asked.
“Same old stuff,” the woman said. “People have too much to drink, a fight starts, and suddenly you got somebody pulling a knife. You know how it is.”
“No,” my wife said, “I don’t.” But her words were muffled by the cocoon of civility, and I don’t think the woman heard her reply.
By Jim Berlin
President Obama is a rudderless man with no anchor in reality because the ship he thought was his has sailed and left him lonely on the dock. His worldview
– how he believes things work, what people are all about – has proven disastrously naïve.
He described that worldview in 2007 just before assuming the presidency, citing his unique qualifications for making peace with radical Islam: He had lived among Muslims in Indonesia as a youth, attended a Muslim school, studied the Koran and heard the moving “call to prayer” five times a day over the community’s loudspeakers.
It had all been so lovely.
And soon, as president, that shared experience would be the bridge over troubled waters. It would only require kindness and lots of apologies and the enemy would melt in his arms.
He tried those things – much to our embarrassment – and our enemies called it weakness. Smelling blood and fear, their numbers grew and the atrocities multiplied.
Now, his worldview in tatters, the president is the robot that has blown a fuse, awkwardly lurching and spinning on center stage, feebly
waving its arms in all directions and grasping at empty air.
Only golf consoles him now, because he understands golf. The game never changes:
Hit the ball, get on the green, put the ball in the cup, do it over again.
Golf makes soothing and perfect sense to President Obama. It’s all that does anymore.