You think it’s simple? It’s not simple:
When is an insurrection not an insurrection? When the left does it
And notice that to these two lawyers, “our democracy” isn’t so very precious:
Evan Davis, the former editor-in-chief of the Columbia Law Review, and David Schulte, the former editor-in-chief of the Yale Law Journal, argue in a joint column in The Hill that Congress not only has the power to block Trump from taking office but should.
Their column doesn’t cover much new ground. It references Section 3 of the 14th Amendment, which disqualifies individuals who have engaged in insurrection from holding office, despite the fact that Trump did no such thing. Heck, he hasn’t even been charged with such an offense, and when you consider the fact that rogue left-wing prosecutors have charged him with all sorts of made-up crimes, that says something. …
Not only is the foundation of their argument weak, but they’re relying on partisan cases that all failed. They’re calling on Democrats to do exactly what was once considered an unprecedented attack on democracy, which not only undermined the will of the voters but also subverted the entire electoral process. The authors insist that it’s not okay to have doubts about an election where the Democrat was declared the victor, yet it is more than okay to use bogus arguments to prevent a Republican from taking office.
“The unlikelihood of congressional Republicans doing anything that might elect Harris as president is obvious,” they write. “But Democrats need to take a stand against Electoral College votes for a person disqualified by the Constitution from holding office unless and until this disability is removed. No less is required by their oath to support and defend the Constitution.”
Actually, I don’t think “insurrection” is the proper word for their suggestion. I think “coup” is – but then again, there have been so many coup attempts against Trump ever since he won the 2016 election that I’ve lost count.
Not to mention the successful coup against Joe Biden, the rightful Democrat nominee as selected in the primaries, running for the presidency in 2024.
Coup, schmoo. The left wants what it wants and will bend the rules till they break in order to get it. However, it’s pretty easy to predict that the suggestions of these law professors won’t be carried out, as they themselves admit. I’m not really sure why they wrote the article, except to give succor to the voters still grieving for Kamala’s loss, and to keep moving that Overton Window.
It occurs to me that …
… the 25th Amendment is crying out for revision. It clearly doesn’t work in its present form. Despite the amendment and despite Joe Biden’s obvious mental decline and inability to discharge the duties involved in being President of the United States, it hasn’t been invoked and that has allowed a nameless and faceless bunch of unelected aides to run the country.
Why? Because that’s the way the Democrats wanted it.
Let’s look at the relevant elements of the amendment. First we have Section 3:
Whenever the President transmits to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives his written declaration that he is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, and until he transmits to them a written declaration to the contrary, such powers and duties shall be discharged by the Vice President as Acting President.
This part is fairly straightforward and is about voluntary relinquishment on the part of the president. It was never activated by Biden – either because he refused or because those in power wanted him to remain in place as a convenient figurehead.
Then there is Section 4. It’s more complex and involves actions by a president and actions by the Cabinet and Congress:
Whenever the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers of the executive departments or of such other body as Congress may by law provide, transmit to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives their written declaration that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, the Vice President shall immediately assume the powers and duties of the office as Acting President.
Thereafter, when the President transmits to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives his written declaration that no inability exists, he shall resume the powers and duties of his office unless the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers of the executive department or of such other body as Congress may by law provide, transmit within four days to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives their written declaration that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office. Thereupon Congress shall decide the issue, assembling within forty-eight hours for that purpose if not in session. If the Congress, within twenty-one days after receipt of the latter written declaration, or, if Congress is not in session, within twenty-one days after Congress is required to assemble, determines by two-thirds vote of both Houses that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, the Vice President shall continue to discharge the same as Acting President; otherwise, the President shall resume the powers and duties of his office.
But during the Biden administration, despite the Cabinet and Vice President knowing of his disability, nothing was done. In fact, there was a huge effort by the Cabinet, Harris, and the MSM to cover up the entire situation. It’s really quite extraordinary; politics, in the sense of “what’s good for the Party and bad for Trump?” took precedence over everything else.
It’s an example of the truism that laws are only as good as the people executing them. That’s why, even though I started out this post by saying the 25th Amendment needs improvement, I can’t think of a way to do it that wouldn’t fall prey to the same basic problems. I doubt very much that the amendment’s drafters ever thought of the particular situation we’ve found ourselves in during the Biden administration and particularly in this lamest of lame-duck periods since the 2024 election.
Did they or didn’t they?: Russia and the Azerbaijani airplane
I haven’t written anything about the Azerbaijani airplane crash and Russia because I’ve been waiting for more clarity on the story.
But so far, clarity hasn’t come. So I’ll link to this:
Early indications suggest a Russian anti-aircraft system may have downed the passenger jet that crashed in Kazakhstan on Christmas Day, a US official told CNN, as authorities recovered a second black box that they hope will shed light on the cause of the disaster that killed dozens of people.
The signs point to a Russian system striking Azerbaijan Airlines flight J2-8243 before it crashed near the city of Aktau, the US official said Thursday.
This is the first time the US has offered an assessment of Wednesday’s crash, which killed at least 38 of the 67 people aboard the plane.
If the early indications are ultimately confirmed, it may have been a case of mistaken identity, the US official said, in which poorly trained Russian units have fired negligently against Ukraine’s use of drones.
Officials from Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and Russia urged people not to speculate about the crash until investigations have concluded.
Of course people are going to speculate. There are all sorts of conflicting stories and possibilities; read the link for more of the details.
There are some survivors:
At least 38 of the 67 people on board the plane were killed in the crash, Kazakh authorities confirmed, including two pilots and a flight attendant.
Some 29 survivors, two of whom are children, were pulled from the wreckage, Bozumbayev said.
RIP.
Open thread 12/27/2024
What was Kamala Harris thinking?
My guess is that Harris was so unused to being expected to answer hard questions on her way from high position to high position that she thought the ultimate high position – the US presidency – would be hers if she just continued along that path.
And you know what? She came way too close to winning the 2024 election, considering her abysmal performance.
Anyway, here’s the story that sparked these reflections of mine:
Vice President Kamala Harris stormed out of a meeting with powerful Teamsters President Sean O’Brien while campaigning, arrogantly telling him she didn’t need his support because she’d “win with you or without you” — just before her crushing loss to Donald Trump.
O’Brien recalled the episode on “The Tucker Carlson Show” on Monday as he discussed his union’s historic decision not to endorse a presidential candidate for the first time in nearly 30 years.
O’Brien said Harris finally agreed to sit with the Teasmstars for a roundtable after President Biden dropped out of the race, just to only answer a quarter of their 16 questions. Other candidates, including Trump, answered them all.
Harris apparently didn’t even think she needed to court unions, which used to be a stronghold of Democrat sentiment. No more.
Also, here’s a one-minute segment from the interview:
I don’t think Harris had ever before had to face the consequences of conveying an obnoxious attitude of entitled arrogance. Finally, she has. Of course, she’ll probably land on her feet anyway, with some sort of cushy position and lots of money. Hey, maybe she’ll even be the Democrats’ presidential nominee again, but I don’t think so.
Happy Chanukah, and some reflections
[NOTE: This is a slightly edited version of a previous post.]
This is the second night of Chanukah, and I wish everyone a happy one. Chanukah is about a successful revolt and a miracle of light:
The miracle of the one-day supply of oil miraculously lasting eight days is first described in the Talmud, committed to writing about 600 years after the events described in the books of Maccabees. The Talmud says that after the forces of Antiochus IV had been driven from the Temple, the Maccabees discovered that almost all of the ritual olive oil had been profaned. They found only a single container that was still sealed by the High Priest, with enough oil to keep the menorah in the Temple lit for a single day. They used this, yet it burned for eight days (the time it took to have new oil pressed and made ready).
The words of this Chanukah song are in Yiddish—written by Morris Rosenfeld in 1924 before the Holocaust and before the establishment of Israel—and they are not happy. But I didn’t know that when I first heard it, and I post it anyway because I think it’s a very beautiful song:
Here are the lyrics, loosely translated by Theodore Bikel:
O little lights of mystery
You recall our history
And all that went before
The battles and the bravery
And our release from slavery
Miracles galore.As my eyes behold your flames
I recall our heroes’ names
And our ancient dream:
“Jews were learning how to fight
To defeat an awesome might
They could reign supreme”“They would rule their own domain
When the enemy was slain,
The Temple cleansed and whole.
Once there was a Jewish land
And a mighty Jewish hand.”
Oh, how it moves my soul!O little lights of mystery
You retell our history
Your tales are tales of pain.
My heart is filled with fears
My eyes are filled with tears
“What now?” says the haunting refrain.
Written in 1924, and it seems prescient.
Bikel translated the song that way in order to make the rhymes come out in the English version. But a more literal translation of that last verse might be this [NOTE: that link isn’t working anymore, but here’s the translation I had found there]:
Oh little candles,
your old stories
awaken my anguish;
deep in my heart there
stirs
a tearful question:
What will be next?
You can find another translation here.
Last year the words of the song had an extremely ominous quality. Chanukah that year came only two months after 10/7, and Israel was struggling to recover from the terrible blow as well as to fight back on many fronts and against rising worldwide anti-Semitism. The anti-Semitism is still there, but Israel has experienced not only “battles and bravery” but “miracles galore.” The future remains uncertain, but things have certainly been looking up, particularly since this past September.
Open thread 12/26/2024
Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah (another golden oldie from the neo archives)
On Christmas Day—blog?
I’d rather have grog,
Or maybe eggnog,
Then go walk the dog.
Or watch a Yule Log,
And eat like a hog,
Then go for a jog.
Blogging’s a bog.
My mind’s in a fog,
Or maybe agog
From much dialogue.
I’ll return to the slog
Tomorrow, and blog.
NOTE: On the words “the dog,” the link goes to a photo of the type of dog we had when my son was growing up.
Also – Happy Chanukah, which starts the evening of Christmas Day this year.
This post can serve as an open thread as well. Enjoy!
‘Twas the Blogger’s Night Before Christmas
[NOTE: This small poetic effort of mine has become somewhat of a holiday tradition at the blog. So here it comes again—just like the holiday itself.]
‘TWAS THE BLOGGER’S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ‘sphere
Bloggers were glad to see Christmas draw near.
Their laptops were turned off and all put away
The bloggers were swearing to take off the day.
Their children were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of extra time danced in their heads
With a father or mom not distracted by writing
No posts to compose, and no links to be citing.
But we all know that vows were just meant to be broken
And the vows of a blogger can be a mere token.
There’s always a chance that some sort of temptation
Will rise up to make them of fleeting duration.
For instance, there might be found under the tree
A sleek Mac; well, what better sight could there be?
And who could neglect it and wait the whole day?
It cries to be tried out, one just can’t delay.
Or maybe somewhere there’s a fast-breaking story
Important, and possibly leading to glory.
It can’t be ignored, there’s really no choice,
So add to the din every blogger’s small voice.
And then there are some who may just like to rhyme
(I’m one who at times must confess to this crime),
And it’s been quite a while since Clement Clarke Moore
Wrote his opus (though authorship’s been claimed by Gore).
So it seems about time it was newly updated
And here’s my attempt – aren’t you glad you all waited?
Forgive if it sounds a bit awkward to read.
In writing, I set a new record for speed.
I had to get under the wire and compose it
Before Christmas Day. Now it’s time that I close it.
But let me exclaim (or, rather, I’ll write)
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!
Here’s a video of the original, with some 50s-type nostalgia for those who remember. There are a few odd anomalies (“safe in their beds” instead of “snug in their beds”). But it brought back memories of pincurls, and the days when parents were assumed to sleep in twin beds (even though I don’t recall that most people did).
I’m pretty sure I had the book on which this is based. The illustrations look very familiar:
Biden’s death row commutations
A president’s pardon and commutation power only extends to federal convictions and sentences. Now Biden – or the people telling him what to do – has commuted the life sentences of almost all the federal lifers, with three exceptions. The reason he gives is that he’s against the death penalty, but the ordinary and usual way to deal with such a policy change would be through statutory means.
But hey, who needs a legislature, when we’ve got a sort-of-president?
And of course, the logic of the rationale falls through because of the three-person exception. If the death penalty is wrong, why keep it for those three?
It’s not as though the 37 whose sentences were changed to life in imprisonment are sympathetic characters, either:
In the stunning act of clemency just two days before Christmas, Biden, 82, gave the reprieve to some of the nation’s most violent murderers — nine of them found too dangerous to live after butchering fellow inmates — as part of his effort at “ensuring a fair and effective justice system,” the White House said. …
The three men on federal death row did not get a commutation were Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, who along with his brother killed three people in 2013; Robert Bowers, who killed 11 at a Pittsburgh synagogue in 2018, and Dylann Roof, who killed nine black Charleston churchgoers in 2015.
Among those getting some holiday cheer is Thomas Sanders, who in 2010 kidnapped and then shot 12-year-old Lexis Roberts four times and cut her throat in Louisiana — days after the girl watched as Sanders murdered her mother on a road trip near the Grand Canyon.
Christmas also came early for Anthony Battle, who murdered an Atlanta prison guard with a hammer in 1994 while serving a life sentence for raping and murdering his wife, a US Marine, in 1987 at Camp Lejeune, NC.
Jorge Avila-Torrez, another clemency recipient, sexually assaulted and stabbed to death two girls — Laura Hobbs, 8, and Krystal Tobias, 9 — who had been riding their bicycles in their neighborhood in a suburb north of Chicago in 2005.
Four years later, he strangled naval officer Amanda Snell, 20, inside her barrack in Arlington, Va.
There’s more at the link, but you get the idea.
And all through the house …
[NOTE: This is a repeat of a previous Christmas Eve post.]
… a creature was stirring.
On Christmas Eve I was expecting a visit from my son, who was flying in as a rare treat. I had tidied up, and was putting on the finishing touches while waiting for him to arrive from the airport. As I was poised at the top of the staircase on my way down from the second floor, I saw a movement on one of the lower steps.
A dark shape. A small dark shape—very still, and then in motion again. With tiny little ears, and a long tail.
A mouse. Very much stirring.
I let out a shriek, like in the cartoons. Yes, I know that mice do not hurt people. But yes, they give me the willies when they startle me and scurry around—like—mice. The few times when this has happened before, they’ve always sought the little opening from whence they’d come and scurried away, hardly ever to be seen again.
But this mouse seemed to be lost and disoriented. Maybe because it was almost midnight on Christmas Eve, and no creature was supposed to be stirring. In the midst of my unreasonable fear was a sort of amusement. What was it doing here, this evening of all evenings?
The mouse was still on the staircase landing, and although I assumed that somehow it had managed to climb the three stairs to where it was, it appeared to be perplexed about how to get up or down from there. I watched it from what I considered a safe distance at the top of the stairs, and I could see it moving back and forth, back and forth, first towards the wall and then towards the edge of the step, but it could not seem to get the courage to make a break for it.
What did I do? I called my son and asked how far away he was. Forty-five minutes. And then I settled in, not for a long winter’s nap but for a long viewing from a good vantage point to monitor the mouse’s position till my son would arrive. For the moment, the mouse seemed quite well-contained on the stairs, but I didn’t trust that—and sure enough, slowly but surely, with many fits and starts, it managed to get back down those three stairs to the ground floor.
Now, it turns out that watching a mouse is actually sort of interesting. This one darted from stair-bottom to hall to bathroom to bedroom and back again (my place is built upside-down, with the bedroom and bathroom downstairs and living room and kitchen upstairs). I had a special horror of the mouse being in the bedroom—so after its one foray into the bedroom for five minutes and then out again, I slammed the bedroom door shut and placed a thick towel to block the crack at the bottom. The towel seemed to act as an effective barrier, like a small mountain range, and the mouse didn’t venture into that room again.
But back and forth it went—along the wall in the hall, into the bathroom, up a few stairs and then back down them again. I noticed that it seemed to get smarter and smarter; each time it climbed the stairs it was better at it, until it seemed as though it had been doing this all its little life.
And then by trial and error it found the molding along the side of the stairs, which then acted as a sort of ramp by which the mouse could easily climb all the way to the top. This filled me with dread. I was conceding the downstairs for now, but the upstairs was my territory! But what to do? That molding-ramp made it so easy; the mouse was coming up in a determined sort of way, till I could look into its beady little eyes and it could look into mine. I let out another involuntary yelp, stamping my feet and clapping my hands, trying to make enough noise to frighten it off.
I looked and sounded completely and utterly ridiculous.
And yet it was effective; the little thing stopped in its tracks, then turned and went back downstairs again, to my great relief. Then a few minutes later it came up the ramp-molding again, and I re-enacted the same stupid pantomime I had before. The mouse kept coming—up up up, light and fleet of foot, relentless and implacable. I actually thought of throwing something at it to head it off—perhaps my shoe, like Clara in “The Nutcracker.” But oh, for a platoon of tin soldiers like hers! (I’ve cued up this video to start at the right spot, although it’s mistitled because these are not meant to be rats, they’re mice):
But alas, we were alone, just the two of us, mousie and me. And I didn’t really want to hurt it, which I thought might happen if I threw my shoe, so I reached for a pillow—and at that moment I heard the key turn in the lock and my son walked in.
I’m always happy to see him, but perhaps never so happy as this time, as I stood at the top of the stairs in a semi-crouch, clutching a small pillow and making silly-yet-hopefully-scary noises at a mouse that was climbing a molding-ramp on the edge of the staircase.
My son managed to keep his disdain under control long enough to catch the mouse in a plastic container and escort it outside to be released, but not before we took a photo though the plastic. Yes, the mouse is kind of cute. But no, I don’t want him in my house, not on Christmas Eve or any other time.
