By Jim Berlin
I’m convinced Donald Trump is just a clown-car-length short of being an idiot savant – someone whose brain is embarrassingly deficient in every category save one.
But in that single category of saving grace – be it math, memorization, music – the idiot savant performs at a level so astounding it flirts with the supernatural.
Trump’s single saving grace has been the world of business and the art of the deal. Period.
Unable to spar with gifted opponents on a cerebral level, he simply defaults to the tactics of a 13-year-old schoolyard bully. His detractors are “stupid” or “nasty” or “jerks.”
He is without intellectual curiosity. Once people began taking him seriously as a candidate, the wise response would have been to start cramming with leading experts on all matters political and military. To really start learning what America faces on the domestic and world stage.
Not Donald. He seems no more informed today than he was six months ago.
And then there’s the praise he gets for always speaking without notes. That’s because he has no idea beforehand what he will say about anything. His train of thought lurches down the tracks in grinding stops and starts, no destination in sight, always a hair’s breadth from derailment.
God bless the idiot savants. But we sure don’t want one as president.
By Jim Berlin
Bill Clinton has officially hit the campaign trail for his beloved spouse, and despite GOP wishful thinking he will be Hillary’s most valuable asset.
That’s because the moral character of celebrities – even former presidents – is irrelevant to most Americans: a full 60 percent told the latest Gallup Poll they view Bill “favorably.”
A lot of soldiers I met in Bosnia while Bill was their commander-in-chief would disagree. In the spring of ’98, just after the Monica Lewinsky scandal broke, a “joke” was circulating among the troops…
It centered on December 31st, 1995, the day the 1st Armored Division crossed the Sava River and America rolled from Croatia into Bosnia for the first time: “While we were crossing the Sava,” the joke went, “Our commander was collecting a BJ in the Oval Office.”
It was only a joke at the time because details of the Clinton-Lewinsky affair had yet to be revealed. Hillary was blaming it all on “a right-wing conspiracy” and Bill was saying he wasn’t even sure what sex is.
Months later, after Monica trotted out her famous blue dress – still aglow with Bill’s DNA contributions – we learned all about the nine White House encounters.
And, holy punch line! On December 31st, 1995, while the 1st Armored Division was
actually crossing the Sava River – and potentially rolling into harm’s way – their commander-in-chief was collecting a BJ in the Oval Office from his 22-year-old intern.
I do not look upon Bill Clinton as a lovable rascal. I do not look upon him “favorably.”
I leave that to Americans who are a mile wide – and an inch deep.
By Jim Berlin
Many Americans are intimidated by the government’s anti-terrorist slogan, “If you see something, say something.”
What exactly is something, they ask, and if I say something and it proves to be nothing, will I look like the end of the horse that never gets a carrot?
As a former street cop I know a little something about something — nuances you might miss: That guy poking a finger in someone’s chest isn’t making a political point, he’s pulling a strong-arm robbery. Those dudes on the corner aren’t shaking hands, they’re exchanging cash for drugs in a hand-to-hand buy.
The list goes on, but when it comes to spotting “something” related to terrorism you and I are on equal footing.
Over thousands of years, natural selection has rewarded those human traits that enhance survival. Recognizing suspicious or threatening activity – then acting on it – is one of those traits.
The cavemen who grabbed their spears at midnight and went to investigate nearby noises in the night were less likely to be eaten by a saber tooth tiger at 2.a.m.
The spear carriers lived to have kids. The cavemen who rolled over and went back to sleep ended up as cat scat.
We are the children of men and women who stirred in their sleep and ventured into the night. It’s in our DNA to instinctively know when things are not as they should be.
We only have to grab out spears – now known as cell phones – and check those noises out.
By Jim Berlin
There has been endless speculation about when and how the San Bernardino Muslim killers became radicalized – the point at which they wish to kill anyone not perfectly matching their Islamic DNA.
What’s not discussed is what occurs when Christians become radicalized. Well, keep your eyes on the closet, folks, because I’m coming out.
I am radicalized. That’s right! I belong to a Bible-thumping evangelical church and we are one crazy bunch of born-again Jesus Freaks. We raise our arms to the heavens when we praise, shout Amen when the preacher nails it and lay hands on our brothers and sisters when they ask for prayer.
We believe some have the gift of prophecy and others the gift of healing. We think it’s okay to speak in tongues and dance in church and yell Hallelujah and Praise the Lord when the spirit moves us.
We radicals believe Jesus walks among us today as surely as he strolled the streets of Jerusalem with the impetuous Peter and the apostle he loved the most (or so John says).
We believe in spreading The Good News, so we put our money where our missionaries are. But we also believe our religious rights end where your nose begins. We’re happy if you join us, but no less happy if you don’t.
The worst thing a radicalized Christian will do to non-believers – is pray for them. No injuries have been reported.
The world has nothing to fear from a radicalized Christian – and everything to fear from a radicalized Muslim.
Really, now, which one is a “Religion of Peace”?