A Cheap Date

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Politically speaking, libertarians can seem like a cheap date. We’re good enough for a nice time, when a prettier, sexier option is unavailable. But let’s face it, whenever the supermodel or the football hero flashes a flirtatious smile, a lot of our potential partners will desert us.

These days, we’re doing plenty of strategizing. Should we take this course, or that? I’ll switch to the team sports metaphor that works so well in politics. For the most part, the choice appears to come down to the following: do we woo players from Team Red or Team Blue? Our franchise is perpetually struggling to stay competitive, and free agents are again beginning to shop their allegiances around.

Both Left and Right recognize how obnoxious — even downright dangerous — big government can be when people they don’t like have control of it.

The ever-shifting team standings have not altered the opinion I’ve held for the last several years. We need to take as many players as we can from both sides. Their willingness to sign with our franchise depends largely on where their team sits in the rankings. This is tiresome, the situation is silly, and most of them are idiots. But however degrading it is that we need to include them in our considerations at all, thisin no way alters the facts.

To put the matter as simply as possible, when their team is winning, they have little desire to abandon it. But when the other side gains the upper hand, they start getting itchy. They recognize how obnoxious — even downright dangerous — big government can be when people they don’t like have control of it. Even though it strikes them as a dandy idea when they think they might, however indirectly, wield power, as the Left believed it did through Obama, and the Right now anticipates doing through Trump.

Cheap dates can take comfort in one thing. Sometimes those who condescend to date us actually fall in love with us. They may only be looking for a good time at the moment, but once they’re close enough to actually get to know us, our philosophy may take hold. That is obviously the case every time the political pendulum swings from one side to the other, because our numbers are increasing. Perhaps not as rapidly as we’d like, but steadily nonetheless.

Our country is so deeply in the thrall of statist authoritarianism that growth may not happen for the liberty movement in any other way. When we peruse the mainstream media’s coverage of libertarian ideas — and that coverage is always scant, at best — we can plainly see that what there is of it is usually inaccurate, or even slanderous. They started out with Gary Johnson’s 2016 campaign byportraying him as a pothead, and after his unfortunate “Aleppo moment” — so unfortunate that it has apparently become code for “disastrous gaffe” — they used it to define him totally. But the good news, which no mainstream media site is ever going to bring us, is that a fast-growing majority ofthe country no longer trusts them to tell it what to think. The opportunity for libertarians to win new hearts and minds has never been greater.

The segment of the population it makes the most sense for us to woo is the independent middle. This is the category in which the “experts” try to stick libertarians when they don’t know what sense to make of us, or when they simply want to make us disappear. Though nonpartisan “moderates” are stereotyped as ignorant, or as just not caring about politics, there are far too many of them to be so mindlessly dismissed.

Our country is so deeply in the thrall of statist authoritarianism that growth may not happen for the liberty movement in any other way.

When our philosophy is explained to them by people not invested in distorting it, we often find that they are kindred spirits. Libertarianism is a treasure such individuals are happy to discover, because it explains things they’ve never been able to make sense of before. They very well may be better matched with us than those who’ve been weak-minded enough to waste years of their lives as authoritarians in the first place.

I suspect that Donald Trump will turn out to be very nearly as big a tyrant and bully as Hillary Clinton would have been. If we’re counting on keeping all the converts who defected from the political Right during the Obama years, the flash and dash of The Donald will prove irresistible to quite a number, and our hearts will be broken yet again. Over the course of the Trump regime, however long it lasts, many leftists with the sense to be at least temporarily scared by big government will bat their lashes at us and whisper sweet nothings in our ears. Some who originated on the Right will stay with us but others won’t, and we can be pretty sure that our success rate in keeping converts from the Left will be similar.

Our hearts are precious; we should guard them. We need to keep ourselves true to what we’ve come to recognize as truth, come what may — knowing that, after all, we’re worth more than a cheap date, and trusting that the people worthy of our devotion will be the marrying kind.




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Gas Expands!

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An amazing and welcome development has been achieved. As the Wall Street Journal just reported, for the first time in six decades, America exported more natural gas than it imported. It has once again become a net exporter of natural gas, and this new export sector will grow rapidly.

The net export volume is starting modestly: in November we exported 7.4 billion cubic feet (BCF) per day, while still importing 7.0 BCF per day. But no one doubts that from this modest start the volume of exports will grow. American gas exports have gone up by 50% over the past six years, and the Energy Department projects that we will be the third-largest exporter of liquefied natural gas (LNG) by 2020 — behind only Australia and Qatar. Citigroup estimates that by 2020 the US will be supplying to the rest of the world about 20% of the natural gas it produces.

No one doubts that from this modest start the volume of natural gas exports will grow.

To cite one example of success: Cheniere Energy opened a facility in the Sabine Pass (on the border of Texas and Louisiana). It was originally intended to import LNG, but the fracking revolution so decreased the price of natural gas that the plant was quickly “reverse-designed” to export it. Since February, when the plant started shipments of LNG, its output has grown to an average of 1.5 BCF exported per day. Not surprisingly, Cheniere is expanding the Sabine Pass plant rapidly, and will open more export facilities over the next two years.

Three years ago, the Freeport LNG facility at Quintana Island, Texas, got approval to export LNG, and it will begin exporting massive quantities of LNG in two years. Next year, Dominion Resources will start exporting LNG to India and Japan.

The only way this US export industry won’t grow is if the government — intentionally or by simple bungling — stops it.

So this trend toward America becoming the dominant reliable supplier of LNG for the whole damn planet will not just continue — it will accelerate. Thank you again, free market: remarkably shrewd private individuals, acting primarily out of self-interest, came up with a way — fracking — to make domestic oil and natural gas plentiful again, and plentiful indefinitely. Government subsidized losers — technologies such as wind and solar energy — but the free market found the efficient answer.

In fact, the only way this US export industry won’t grow is if the government — intentionally or by simple bungling — stops it. The progressive liberal Democrats hate fracking, of course. Obama did everything he could to impede it — such as taking an unprecedented amount of land out of public use — although most of the land upon which fracking operations are happening is private. Hillary Clinton repeatedly stated her total opposition to fracking (not to mention coal), which likely was a major factor in her ignominious loss to Donald Trump.

Speaking of Trump, he may ironically set back the natural gas export boom brought by fracking. For while he certainly claims to support it, the largest customers of our natural gas are, outside of ourselves, our NAFTA partners, Canada and Mexico. Together they are buying a record high of our total output. But Trump — a populist to the core — hates free trade, and has targeted NAFTA as a “bad deal” for America. His bungling trade policy could well get us into trade wars with the very countries that could become our biggest future energy export markets.




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President Blunderbuss

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I have a confession to make. Some of our readers won’t like it. In other quarters, it might lose me friends. But even though I didn’t vote for Donald Trump — in fact, I argued in these pages for a Libertarian vote — I’m glad he won.

On election day, I was downcast. All the self-proclaimed experts predicted a big win for Hillary Clinton. Under the current and blessedly soon-to-be-past Democratic administration, my financial prospects lurched from bad to worse. I wasn’t sure where I’d be after four to eight years of the Queen Presumptive’s rule.

Then came that rollercoaster evening of election returns. As more and more of the mainstream media’s pundits beat their breasts and wept, my mourning turned to gladness. Or, at the very least, to relief. The lesser of two evils may indeed, as the maxim says, still be an evil. But unlike the evil of a Hillary Clinton presidency, this one is unlikely to destroy our country.

On Facebook, I am happy to have many libertarian friends. Some, like me, are happy that Trump will be the next president. Others thunder that they warned us not to sully ourselves by voting, and that even rooting from the sidelines for either of the contending “Republicrats” gave aid and comfort to aggression. That being a thing to which any good libertarian must, by ironclad principle, stand opposed.

Well, I frankly disagree. In fact, I think these folks would do well to reexamine our cherished nonaggression principle in the cold light of present reality. Certainly it opposes the initiation of force against others. But it accords us every right to self-defense.

Do I want thugs to break into my house and brutalize and rob me? That’s what the Democrats have done for the past eight years. It’s what they would undoubtedly have continued to do, if the coronation of Hillary Clinton had gone on according to plan.

By every sane interpretation of the nonaggression principle, if I am sitting peacefully in my living room recliner, and thugs break through my door, I have every right to grab my gun. Now, my weapon of choice happens to be a Lady Smith .357 Magnum. But that particular Lady didn’t happen to run for president this year.

The weapon that ran, and won, is more of a blunderbuss. Donald Trump is noisy, crude, and uncouth. His buckshot singes the whiskers of everybody near him — friend as well as foe. When he takes aim, though he usually hits his target, it’s seldom with great precision. But in a pinch, when our backs are against the wall and our enemies are closing in, a blunderbuss is a mighty good thing to have handy.




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Manna from Heaven

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When we talk of economics, we often do it by means of labels and mantras. Discussing economic subjects in this way means that we do not fully discuss them; we just use words and phrases that suggest preconceived notions. I think this is because economics is predominantly political, and “political” is another way of saying “snake oil sales.”

One mantra that I often hear is people’s invocation of a Robin Hood morality, the morality of robbing Peter to pay Paul: Robin Hood cared for the poor downtrodden (Paul) with the wealth he stole from the fat cats (Peter). What is ignored about this fairy tale is that Peter is the lord of the land who uses his governmental authority to confiscate the property of Paul, the peasants. Robin is a hero because he fights the totalitarian government of Peter to return confiscated wealth to oppressed taxpayers.

What got me thinking about the labels that political commentators use in discussing economics was Hillary Clinton’s assertion that Donald Trump’s plan to cut taxes in order to revive the economy was just “Trumped up trickle-down.” “Trickle-down” is the label often used by the political enemies of leaving wealth in the hands of CEOs and others of corporate administrative rank. The “trickle-down” label comes from the idea that these people spend the wealth hiring workers to construct whatever their companies’ products may be. Thus, wealth “trickles down” from the wealthy administrators to the needy workers.

Robin Hood is a hero because he fights the totalitarian government to return confiscated wealth to oppressed taxpayers.

But what is the government’s economic system of high taxes and “wealth redistribution”? In its intention, the wealth redistribution system is also trickle-down. In this system, government takes the place of corporate administration. It accumulates wealth — by taxation. This wealth is then supposed to trickle down to the subjects of the government, by means of redistribution programs. So, why is trickle-down bad when wealth trickles down from company administration, but good when it trickles down from government?

The feudal system that I mentioned when talking about Robin Hood was actually a wealth redistribution system. But in such systems, does wealth really trickle down? “Trickle-down” is appropriate to the sales pitch used by politicians when they claim that they intend to do such things as pay for infrastructure, education, and retirement. However, the wealth redistribution system is, in fact, trickle-out. “Trickle-out” means that the government takes wealth from its subjects and distributes it to its preferred lobbyists. Think military contractors, Elon Musk, and Planned Parenthood. Those are a few examples. Does the wealth ever get back to the subjects? Well, some does, but the amount that the subjects get is inversely proportional to the number of lobbyists who get some of the wealth before it makes its way back.

Politicians claim the place of God: they sell themselves as all-powerful beings that you need to take care of you.

The lobbyists and their clients reward the government by giving back some of the loot they received, prompting politicians to increase their take by selling more and more “economic stimuli” to the public, as if they were actually providing some kind of free food.

In the book of Exodus, God gives the children of Israel a miraculous food called manna, which is meant to sustain them on their journey out of servitude to the king of Egypt. In the modern form of this story, politicians claim the place of God: they sell themselves as all-powerful beings that you need to take care of you. They prefer this story about themselves to the reality of “trickle-down,” which is how we truly get our bread from heaven. In every light rain, water trickles down from above; this water is the food for plants, and thus the origin of our daily bread. And I think this is why politicians hate trickle-down economics: our food comes from sources beyond their control. This kind of economics dethrones them from their delusion of almighty power; and it exempts us — if we reflect on it — from our dependency on them.




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The Hamilton Duel

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Experiencing the unexpected is one of the things I love about live theater, so I would love to have been in the audience when the cast of Hamilton decided to explain their position to vice-president-elect Mike Pence the weekend before Thanksgiving. (Although I would not have been happy if it had been my first experience with the play.) I support the right of the cast to exercise their free speech, and I agree with those who say they were respectful and sincere. They even silenced the booing. Sort of.

However, I wish the cast had trusted their art more. Everything they said in their speech was heartfelt and important. But it had already been said in the play. Storytelling is a powerful art form, perhaps the most powerful way of expressing a message, because it touches the heart as well as the mind. It’s the reason I’m so passionate about film. And when you add music, the power increases exponentially. The lecture simply wasn’t necessary.

I remember the night I saw Hamiltonshortly after it opened, before I had heard the music or the hype. It was a transformative experience, and I’m glad it wasn’t marred by a post-performance lecture. I stayed at my seat until the last chord of the postlude and applauded one more time. The music stayed with me as I left the theater. The play ends with an epilogue focusing on the women in Hamilton’s life and what they did to preserve his legacy and his writings after his death, and I thought about their contribution to the cause of liberty during the Revolution.

Everything they said in their speech was heartfelt and important. But it had already been said in the play.

As I walked to the train station, I contemplated the rich heritage portrayed in the play, particularly as demonstrated in the casting of ethnic minorities in all the major roles and most of the ensemble. It made me think more deeply about those revolutionaries we usually see depicted in brocade finery and speaking the king’s English, men who were actually more like the Occupy movement of our day. It made me wonder whether I would have been a royalist or a revolutionary, something I never questioned before. It also helped me understand the royalists’ position better, and how hard it must have been to give up a way of life that had been comfortable and familiar to them. Would I have been willing to sacrifice all that I have for the ideal of freedom?

In short, I got it, in my mind and in my heart, through the storytelling and the music. The audience who saw the play with Mike Pence also had an unforgettable experience, but I doubt that it was focused on the music or the story.

It made me wonder whether I would have been a royalist or a revolutionary, something I never questioned before.

Like the characters they play onstage, the actors took a risk Friday night. It wasn’t a risk to their lives but to their livelihoods. I admire their courage and their sincerity. But they weren’t the only ones at risk that night. I can only imagine the consternation of the Secret Service agents as they tried to move their charge from the crowded theater before the curtain calls were ended, as they are instructed to do. Transitions are always the most dangerous time for a Secret Service agent, so it must have been a nightmare for them when the cast invited the audience to take out their cellphones to record the speech, and everyone reached into their purses and pockets! They put everyone at risk at that moment. Fortunately Secret Service agents have better training than cops, and no one was trigger-happy. I’m sure they surrounded Mr. Pence with their bodies, ready to take a bullet rather than use one. But there could have been a tragic outcome as everyone reached for those phones.

So yes, the cast of Hamilton had every right to say what they said, just as those who argued both sides of the issue that weekend had every right to express their opinions. I just wish the cast had trusted their art to tell the story and convey the message by itself. Perhaps they could have invited Mr. Pence backstage to talk to them about his experience and their hopes in a meaningful way. They knew he was coming, so they could have arranged it ahead of time. Then the news story might have been about Mr. Pence’s response to the play, instead of everyone else’s response to the lecture.




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Weaponized Fear

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On the Sunday after the election, during the coffee hour following Mass at my Episcopal church, a parishioner went around the social hall doling out safety pins. Accompanying them were flyers telling us how comforted and loved we were supposed to feel, thanks to kind souls who — well, gave us safety pins and flyers. Just in case any of us somehow missed the point, he’d also tacked the flyers up in the hall, the narthex, and the parish house.

I declined to take one of his special safety pins. And, just because sometimes I’m ornery that way, I asked him exactly what it is we’re supposed to feel safe from. Perhaps appropriate for someone handing out safety pins, once used to fasten cloth diapers, he responded in baby-talk.

For all their supposed kindness, compassion, and moral superiority over the rest of us, the “progressives” of today are among the most hostile and aggressive people I have ever seen.

Though I tried to be polite, I’m fairly sure that my annoyance showed through. I am heartily sick of the crocodile tears of those who refuse to accept the election of Donald Trump. I didn’t vote for him, but he won — and I was brought up to believe that regardless of whether they like the outcomes, adults simply accept the results of lawful elections as matters of fact. What I have a hard time accepting is Hillary Clinton’s troopers bringing their petulant “not my president” nonsense into church.

The safety pin missionary smiled his kindly Christian smile. But his eyes glazed and his jaw clenched. He clearly wanted to sock me. I must admit that at that particular moment, I didn’t feel particularly safe. For all their supposed kindness, compassion, and moral superiority over the rest of us, the “progressives” of today are among the most hostile and aggressive people I have ever seen.

It wasn’t enough to foist his magical talismans off on us during coffee hour. In the middle of a meeting of the St. Anne’s Guild — an Episcopal women’s organization — he burst in to pass them around. When they came to me, I dropped them. I confess I can’t be sure it was entirely accidental.

Am I overreacting? Is there anything wrong, at heart, with this ministry of the diaper pin? There’s certainly nothing wrong with wanting to comfort fearful people. I suppose I’d find these admonitions not to be afraid more comforting — not to mention more convincing — if they weren’t coming from the very people turning a blind eye to mass tantrums that degenerate into riots. In an instant, this crowd can go from speaking pabulum words of peace to screaming through a bullhorn.

Fear is the weapon of tyrants. Statists are, at the very least, tyrants-in-training.

I’d be the last to deny that fear has reached pestilential levels in our society. We see it everywhere, and it motivates more of what we do than most of us would care to admit. When our “fear” button is pressed too often, and too hard, it gets stuck in the “on” position. And an overload of fear — especially during an extended period — goads us into rage. Rage is nothing more or less than weaponized fear.

Fear is the weapon of tyrants. Statists are, at the very least, tyrants-in-training. Donald Trump has poured his share of gasoline on the fire. Not so much in what he’s said, himself, but in the hordes of supporters who, throughout his campaign, he encouraged to be angry and little else. They were angry because they were afraid, and because they were so angry they’ve made many other people afraid.

This vicious cycle won’t be stopped by people who condemn fearmongering only in those with whom they disagree, while condoning it in their political allies. I believe that Trump supporters would have been equally quick to kick, scream, and turn blue if their candidate had lost the election. Those who behave that way are certainly very likely to be afraid. But they don’t hesitate to throw their rivals into the most ungodly terror they are capable of inspiring.

The safety-pin crusade was, in itself, an act of aggression. That it masqueraded as an attempt to be comforting fooled nobody who wasn’t willing to be fooled. It was infantile, as acts of aggression usually are. If protestors against our constitutionally stipulated political process continue to behave like irrational children, they will destroy this country. And any church that doesn’t stop this nonsense from happening in what its parishioners trust to be sacred space will eventually find its entire body of believers in diapers, and nothing in the collection plate but safety pins.




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Silver Linings Playbook

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Never mind that the Democrat elite engineered the nomination of probably the only person in the country who could lose the presidency to a game-show host with a personality disorder . . . and outspend him two-to-one while doing it. Never mind that the same people saw to it that their party lost control of the House of Representatives for, maybe, ever; assured a conservative majority on the Supreme Court for what could be generations; ensured that their party would be denied power in most state houses and governorships, and be reduced to a level not seen since 1928. Never mind that they didn’t even notice they were losing. Never mind that they have set up the party itself for an internal catfight it might never recover from.

Never mind those things — because that very same elite, in the words of the Washington Post, has discerned what its headline describes as “A ‘silver lining’ on election night.”

What, you might ask, is this silver lining?

The rest of the headline comes right out and tells you. “First Latina elected to US Senate.” There it is. The whole ongoing catastrophe has been worthwhile because a Latina will now be bringing her third-world diversity to the Senate.

Never mind that Catherine Cortez Masto isn’t a third-world anything. She’s a third-generation American born right here in the good ole US of A. Never mind that this makes her practically Mayflower material, compared to Antonin Scalia. Never mind that she grew up in Nevada and graduated from Gonzaga, that her roots and her law degree, and her life experiences, pretty much clone those of almost every other member of the Senate. Never mind that the politically correct Democrat elite can’t even bring themselves to call her an American. The bare fact of the Latina-ness of her and her husband’s last names will add much-needed diversity to our most august deliberative body. The serape ceiling has been broken! Never mind the fact that the very same out-of-touch elite blew their . . . and her . . . chance at having any real power in the Senate, or anywhere else in the government, by not winning elections.

Here’s the actual silver lining: these clowns are too out of touch to ever figure out why they keep losing. And, with that, the Republic is really better off.




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What, Me Worry?

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“So, did your candidate win last night?”

It was 8 AM, Wednesday morning after the election. I was standing in line at the hardware store to buy paintbrushes. Prescott, Arizona — where I live — is a town and state that narrowly went for Trump. The guy behind me, a complete stranger and out of the blue, had decided to engage me.

“So you wasted your vote, eh?” The statement phrased as a question hung in the air like an olfactory assault.

Ignoring for one second the glib impertinence of the question, the implied familiarity in asking it, and the strong emotions most people invested in the election’s results, I was glad I hadn’t voted for either Clinton or Trump. A “wrong” answer might have opened a door into territory I didn’t want to explore with this hayseed. I answered, “I voted for Johnson and Weld.”

“So you wasted your vote, eh?” The statement phrased as a question hung in the air like an olfactory assault. As I mentally scrambled for an appropriate explanation (not that he deserved one) or at least a bon mot, he beat me to the punch: “I didn’t vote.”

Enough said.

* * *

I couldn’t believe the spring in my step that morning, the sunny disposition that overwhelmed my otherwise dry-verging-on-the-cynical humor, the optimism that still refuses to let go of me. Some of it was relief that it was over; but I know some of it was schadenfreude. Watching the supercilious, condescending Left eat crow is extremely gratifying — Obama’s “Men, get over your sexism and vote for Hillary” to the fore.

I’d hoped for divided government, with a narrow Clinton win and a Republican Congress, with a nod to Ted Cruz’s glimmer of hope for a reduced Supreme Court.

How do I hate thee, Donald? Let me count the ways: Trump’s nuclear triad of ignorance; his “If I get elected I’ll be richer than I’ve ever been” declaration; his “Trump discount,” whereby he withholds payment to his contractors unless they — after the fact — agree to a 10% reduction in their bill to avoid taking him to court; his treatment of Vera Coking (I’ll stop here) made him anathema to me.

Still, knowing my candidate would never win, I look for the silver lining: goodbye Obamacare, hello Supreme Court.

That night, Trump — of all people — added another tiny ray of hope. In the wee hours of that reality shifting morning, right after Hillary Clinton called to concede, Trump took to the stage to convey her concession. Approaching the podium with family in tow, I saw a side of him that I didn’t think existed, a side so out of character, so unguarded, even unbelievable, that I played it again: he and Melania were fighting back tears.

Watching the supercilious, condescending Left eat crow is extremely gratifying.

I don’t know what other folks made of this or even if they saw it. But to me it indicated a degree of humility that I couldn’t conceive in the man. He didn’t gloat, he didn’t smile — he was (dare I say it?), classy. I can’t but imagine that it was at this moment that the full realization that he’d become president of the United States sank in (though I also imagined him in a panic calling all his advisors and asking, what do we do now?).

But there’s one more glimmer of hope that I later discerned, and it came from President Rodrigo Duterte, the Filipino Trump — and, admittedly, it’s a stretch.

For the past four years Chinese ships have blocked Filipino fishermen from plying their trade near Scarborough Shoal, an incipient piece of land in the South China Sea that China claims as its own, in violation of international law. The Philippines, under President Benigno Aquino, took their case to The Hague, where an international tribunal ruled in the Philippines’ favor. China has ignored the ruling.

Souring the situation further, the US has signed an Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement with the Philippines and regularly plies the South China Sea in an effort to uphold the right of free passage through what all but China consider international waters. Enter Rodrigo Duterte, the tough-talking, loose cannon successor president to Aquino.

I question how creative Duterte or Trump actually are, or how consciously aware of their tactics. Can either think that many steps ahead?

The Philippines hold no cards to, er, trump Chinese power, so Duterte has changed tactics from confrontational to affable. Verbally distancing himself from the US and vividly insulting President Obama (“son of a whore”), he has extended a hand of friendship to China. Last week Filipino fishermen were back fishing at Scarborough Shoal. Mind you, it has all been talk — there have been no substantive changes in Filipino-American or Filipino-Chinese relations.

Donald Trump’s sweet talk about Russia and Putin might be an analogous tactic: sweet foreplay for a more productive engagement, possibly leading to favorable results. I don’t know, and I question how creative Duterte or Trump actually are, or how consciously aware of their tactics. Can either think that many steps ahead?

And: a buffoon in charge of the Philippines is one thing; a buffoon in charge of the US, an entirely different proposition.




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Clueless to the End

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The Clinton campaign died the way it was born — completely clueless. As state after state turned against her, her friends and operatives (but is there a difference?) played endless variations on the same theme: how could this be happening?

“What the f---?” one aide said. “This wasn't part of the plan. This is making everyone nervous. I think everyone is biting their fingernails here. I don't think anyone anticipated this.”

Even Fox commentator Juan Williams, a Democrat whose intelligence and word-power I greatly respect, was silly enough to say, “How does this make sense? I mean it’s out of the blue.”

It was certainly out of the blue for Hillary Clinton, but her response was typical of the arrogance and ignorance that have always been her trademarks. Apparently unprepared to address the followers gathered in New York City for a victory party of Babylonian ostentation, Clinton was witless enough to send out a surrogate to dismiss the throng — and who was the surrogate? John Podesta, the blithering idiot whose hacked computer contributed tens of thousands of damaging emails to her rival’s campaign. Rationally speaking, could there be a less welcome emissary than John Podesta? Was Anthony Weiner the runner-up? Yet, such is the witlessness of the core Democratic Party that Podesta’s appearance was vigorously applauded.

As state after state turned against Clinton, her friends and operatives played endless variations on the same theme.

His message was: “She is not done yet” — go away, we’ll keep counting the votes, see you tomorrow. But immediately after this performance, or perhaps during it, Clinton was calling Donald Trump to surrender. So with a cheap lie did a cheap and lying campaign end.

Democrat cluelessness was mirrored, of course, by the mainstream media, all of them loudly announcing that they had been wrong but they didn’t know how. Maybe their wrongness can be traced to their inability to learn even the most elementary facts — extending, in this case, to the issue of who won the election. CNN was loyally refusing to announce that Trump was the winner, even after Clinton’s concession call, even while Trump was taking the stage to congratulate his supporters. At that moment, and not before, Wolf Blitzer intoned: “We can now project the winner of the presidential race.” Project?

So what had happened? Surprisingly, Fox News commentator Monica Crowley got it right. “This,” she said, “is a revolt of the unprotected class against the protected.”

Her comment is worth thinking about, particularly by libertarians upset about Gary Johnson’s poor showing. (But what else can you expect, when you choose a presidential candidate who is a nice guy, nothing less and nothing more, and a VP candidate who campaigns for the Democratic nominee?) It is a very libertarian comment. Libertarians have always maintained that there are two classes: those who are advantaged by government and those who are not. The ones advantaged are a protected class, and will demand further protection. They range from the crony capitalists who fund Democratic foundations and campaigns, to persons who are taught they have a “right” to welfare, to children of prosperous families who think they have a “right” to a free college education, to “refugees” who cannot be kicked out of the country no matter what they do, to the multitude of public “servants” whose major purpose is to increase the number of creatures like themselves. The unprotected are the people who are forced to pay for all of this — not just with money but also with self-esteem and dignity.

Rationally speaking, could there be a less welcome emissary than John Podesta? Was Anthony Weiner the runner-up?

Donald Trump and I have a different view of who belongs in which class. For instance, he is a protectionist when it comes to trade. But Crowley’s idea still holds. When you look at the alleged appeal of Hillary Clinton, it was all to people who want protection — protection from work (welfarism), protection from meaningful competition (CEOism), protection from disagreement (political correctness), protection from truth (the disinformation that has become a major American industry). This kind of protectionism is basically what voters were rebelling against, and their rebellion was strengthened mightily by every invasion — “petty” to the protected class — of their actual rights: rights to information, rights to guns, rights to the expression of opinion, rights to taxation that is not confiscatory.

To all of this, the Democrats have been blind. But libertarians have not. Now it’s time for libertarians to take the cue and address themselves to the unprotected class, not as alien ideologues, but as fellow sufferers. The libertarian task may be easier because — as Greg Gutfeld pointed out in a series of observations that lacked his usual perceptiveness but were acute at one point — whoever won the 2016 election would energize the other side in a mighty way: “If Trump wins, the left will do great. If Hillary wins, so will the right. Fact is it’s just easier to scream at the enemy than it is to support your own embarrassment.” Libertarians have little to be embarrassed about, and much to scream against, in both major parties.

Leftists will be generating more money out of Donald Trump than they could ever generate out of Hillary Clinton. Why shouldn’t libertarians do the same — and do it double? Libertarians can appeal both to legitimate aversion to Donald Trump and legitimate aversion to the Democrats.

What voters were rebelling against was every invasion — “petty” to the protected class — of their actual rights.

At the moment, however, the crucial political fact is the dumb astonishment of the Establishment, the institutionalized and protected Establishment, at its sad damage by the voters. Remember all that guff about how you shouldn’t vote for Trump (or anyone except the hapless Hillary) because the Europeans wouldn’t like it? Well, which Europeans do you have in mind? Europeans like the French ambassador to the United States, who couldn’t resist tweeting about Trump’s election: “After Brexit and this election, everything is now possible. A world is collapsing before our eyes. Dizziness”?

When he wrote this, Ambassador Araud had no clue that his comment was absurd. Later, somebody must have told him, because he deleted the utterance. Smart man.

Almost as smart as Bush maestro Karl Rove, who until minutes before the election was sure that Trump could not win, and who amused the late hours of Fox election coverage by discussing the need for humility on the part of the winner, because he would have gained less than 50% of the vote. MSNBC made much of this too. But I count 17 presidential elections since 1828, when the modern party system was solidifying and the popular vote started to mean something decisive, in which the winning candidate received less than 50% of the vote. The lowest percentages were those of Abraham Lincoln (40), Woodrow Wilson (42), and guess who?, Bill Clinton (43). How soon these experts forget.

Also showing themselves very smart and knowing were those pinnacles of the political and journalistic Establishment, Carl Bernstein and David Gergen, who on the morning after the election spent many minutes of CNN’s airtime explaining that Hillary Clinton will be consoled in defeat by her profound religious faith, as manifested in her devotion to the Bible and to the Methodist church. Of course, nobody ever saw Clinton enter a church, except to suck out votes, and I don’t remember a single reference she ever made to the Bible. Nevertheless, these people were speaking solemnly, and on the verge of tears. Hillary, they never knew ye.




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Let’s Sing a Song About Three!

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I haven’t seen Sesame Street for years. I don’t know if they still do those counting songs to teach kids about numbers. But as this year’s election draws to a close, something like that would sure be helpful.

How is it that so many voters can count no higher than two? It seems to this third-party supporter that they could use a tutorial from Cookie Monster, Bert and Ernie, or The Count. If I hear one more half-witted, addle-pated admonition that I must “vote for Trump so we won’t get Hillary” or “vote for Hillary so we won’t get Trump,” I swear I’m going to scream, “Three banana cream pies!” and plaster somebody smack in the face with them.

Of course I wouldn’t actually do that. I’m a libertarian. I don’t believe in violence against my fellow Americans. But boy, sometimes I’m tempted. This year, I’ve been tempted like never before.

If I hear one more half-witted, addle-pated admonition that I must “vote for Trump so we won’t get Hillary” or “vote for Hillary so we won’t get Trump,” I swear I’m going to scream.

Why is it so hard for people to wrap their minds around the concept that they have additional choices? To me, and to other reasonable people, the suggestion comes as a welcome relief. But legions of others react to it with hostility. They recoil as if from a barrage of banana cream pies. The thought seems to cause them physical pain, as if they were being prescribed a bad case of influenza.

I’ve heard “journalists” lament the cold-heartedness of libertarians who think that giving consumers actual options in a free market is somehow a ruthless philosophy that would doom orphans and widows to starve in the streets. We’re supposedly too idiotic to run our own lives, but veritable Solomons when it comes to running the lives of others. That would require making choices, too — but don’t tell our betters that. It would only give them a headache.

I intend to go on gleefully counting to three. I’d love to deliver my lesson through the cartoon lips of the lady who used to sing it on Sesame Street. But I’ll continue challenging my fellow Americans to count higher — and aim higher — in any way I can. I’ll also keep those pies ready, just in case.




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