BREXIT - Freedom or Serfdom

BREXIT is no more my direct business than the American election is the direct business of anyone in the EU. However, as someone once said, "opinions are like a**holes. Everybody has one." True, they do.

I have a number of acquaintance in Britain and other places within the EU and they opine about our politics, politicians and upcoming election. They don't much like Donald Trump and most seem to think Bernie The Socialist is the best choice of a bad lot. This oar dipping leads me to think I can do the same - offer an opinion on something that really won't affect me.

It started yesterday when hubby said, "Do you want to watch this? We'll only watch ten minutes."

"This" was Brexit - The Movie and it was fascinating. Ten minutes came and went and I didn't even notice. We ended up watching the whole thing - over an hour - because it raised a number of really great points.

First - if you live in the EU, do you know the name of the person in Brussels who is your representative? The person who controls what you do, how you live your life? Could you recognize a picture of him or her? Are they a public figure who you see in your local newspaper?

Second - if you have a complaint or want something significant changed, do you have the ability to get their attention? Can you call their individual office and speak to someone?

Third - if your political representative in Brussels does something you don't like, can you vote that person out office?

Fourth - if you pay taxes, do you know or do you have any say about where and how they're used?

Not, according to what we watched.

If you live in the EU under the current regime you probably don't know who is in charge - and it's not Angela Merkel. She's just the public face of the most powerful of the countries within the Union, the country wholly bought in and with the most skin in the game.

In Britain, and most other places within the EU, if you and your neighbors want to change the laws that affect your everyday life, good luck with that. Brussels controls all of it and you, as an individual or even a group of voters and taxpayers have zero say. While you might be able to vote out your local representative or MP or PM, you cannot change the real regulators of your life. You have no say, no control over your "representative" in the EU governing body.

Last, you have no way of knowing where your tax dollars go. Like that £1.25M spent on paper mache terns funded by the EU.

The mating model terns causing a stir with Brexit campaigners

 http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/06/04/the-mating-model-terns-causing-a-stir-with-brexit-campaigners/ 

Some people think that money could have been better spent on funding the NHS or other things. But, nah. The rulers within the EU know better. Tern breeding is more important.

On the other hand, there is a lot of scary stuff being blared through the news. According to the Remain voices, if Britain leaves the EU everything will implode and the world will come crashing in. Even though it wouldn't, really.

All of it, all of the cries of "wolf, wolf" are from the power brokers in this world. If Britain leaves it will be a blow, perhaps a devastating blow, to the Central Banking system - the one that manipulates all of the world's currencies.

Who is crying "wolf"? Well, most of the most powerful politicians who have a vested interest - lining their own pockets and feathering their own nests - if Britain stays.

The 'little people' - you and me and others like us who live in this world and do the majority of working hard and trying to make ends meet and struggle to better ourselves - don't count for them. We are faceless replaceable cogs with zero importance to them except what we represent in taxes.

One of the big empty threats is trade deals. "If you don't have a trade deal with the rest of the EU you'll be isolated, you won't be able to buy stuff."

That's a truckload of codswallop. If you live in England, do you have a trade deal with your local Tescos? No. If you live in England and buy things online, from Amazon or another site, do you have a trade deal? No.

Trade deals are simply agreements between countries. They set tariffs and import requirements but don't really affect the price of the finished product much.

What you and Britain have is money - and even if the EU tries to punish Britain by increasing tariffs on trade, that will be temporary - no more than a year or two because, if the tariffs are too steep and the cost of goods is too great, no one will buy. Besides, in the long run, those high tariffs are going to hurt far more within the EU than they will across the water in Britain.

If businesses aren't selling, they're not making money, and they won't pay as much in taxes. If businesses aren't selling, they're not going to need as many people making them. They'll lay people off which means less tax revenue. Britons won't be able to afford the things they like, so they'll find alternatives - perhaps new British-made alternatives.

Right now, according to Brexit, Britain doesn't have trade deals with the US, with China and with many other economies with which it does business. So the impact on trade will be zero. Products will still be on shelves because governments still want the taxes generated by the manufacture of those products and the taxes on the wages of the workers. Even if they cost a bit more it won't be significant - and you'll save in other places because, over time, your taxes will likely go down. You won't be funding the behemoth that is the EU.

Even Obama's threat on trade is empty. He has no power over anything. He's going to be out of office in less than eight months and, as soon as the party conventions are over this summer, he's going to be a lamer duck than he already is. Trump, on the other hand, is a businessman - he will want to trade with everyone, so long as the rules make it fair for both parties.

What about the banks, though, Goldman-Sachs and J.P. Morgan that are threatening jobs?

This raises the level of codswallop to mid-thigh. London, within the EU or outside it, is till Europe's largest and most important financial center. It has been for centuries. Just because Britons choose to leave the EU is not going to change that. Being the largest and most important financial center means that the banks aren't going to leave. They have invested there and can't afford to throw that and their presence to the wind just because their knickers get knotted over this.

The primary reasons for these scare tactics are money and power, pure and simple. It is all about greed.

The site Fullfact.org shows that in 2015 Britain took £13 billion in the taxes it collected from its citizens and shipped it off to the EU. That is £13,000,000,000 pounds.

What did Britain get in return? Just one-third of what it sent to Brussels is what it got back: £4.5 billion. What happened to the other £8.5 billion? More importantly, what good could that £13 billion have done at home? How about investing in the NHS? How about going to pay for the social services Britain offers its citizens?

What did you get for part of that £13 billion? Paper mache terns.

The UK's EU Membership Fee - Fullfact.org

This is not to say that there would not be disruptions. Of course there would be, but they would be nothing like the world-ending cataclysm being threatened by those who benefit most from Britain remaining.

The fishing industry would come back, as would a lot of other industries that have been hurt or destroyed by the regulations and restrictions imposed by the EU and its Central Bank.

But think about it. Despite an initial period of unrest and difficulty while things settle out and Britain takes back control of itself, the end result would be a Free Britain. A Britain capable of and able to chart its own course, without restraint or directive from Brussels. Taxes paid would stay at home, not be handed out to all and sundry as Brussels decrees. Government would, once again, be truly accountable to the people it is there to represent, rather than a mindless, faceless bureaucracy.

At the end of it, the program ended with the perfect question: "What price freedom?"

What price, indeed.

To me, loving my freedom as I do, BREXIT would be well worth a period of disruption, of economic disturbance. Why? Because once through it, after the dust settles, having control, having the right of self-determination, is worth it.

After all, isn't freedom, the concept of free men and women being free of governmental tyranny, the fundamental concept of the Magna Carta? Isn't the Magna Carta perhaps the greatest document ever conceived and written? That document effectively established Britain. It, established the rights of a free people and became the template for every democratic constitution written since.

Yet, that is all threatened by this one vote. Will the people of Britain willingly subject themselves to tyranny and serfdom, or will they fight to be free?

It's going to be interesting to watch. Almost more interesting than this, which should be required viewing for everyone even thinking about voting on 23 June:

https://www.brexitthemovie.com/

Best~

Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

Why not?

I'm going back to my roots, here. How I started this blog and how I should have kept going - except I have interests and passions that led me away from simplicity.

Today, in this post, there are no politics, no unpleasantness, no controversy, unless you have a different opinion about how and when and where to use cleaning products.

This morning I'm cleaning. I happened to be in the kitchen, wiping down my countertops, when the inspiration for this little blurb hit.

Hubby and I have granite tile countertops. We couldn't go the full monty when we remodeled the kitchen, so settled for 12x12 tile instead of getting slabs - we have a lot of counter space. They need cleaning, so I clean them.

Once in a while I use a spot of dishsoap and water and they end up looking great - but it's a lot of work and water because I want to be sure to get up all the soap residue. That's the once-in-a-while cleaning. Everyday, though, I use Windex - a spray cleaner with ammonia and coloring.

I was once told by an acquaintance who had just gotten brand new countertops of granite, "I was told by my contractor to never use Windex."

Being curious - because we are, after all, going on about polished rock - I asked, "Why not?"

She wasn't as curious as I. She hadn't asked so didn't know. She told me so. She said, "I don't know, I didn't ask."

Okay. Dead-end. So I went where we all go these days - to the inter-web. All over the place there are sites that say "DON'T". Not a single one answers "WHY NOT??" (Hey -they shout, so I'm shouting.)

They don't say why not. They just say do not. Some, a few, say it's okay but most don't. Some of those say to use another product, another acid - vinegar.

Well that leaves me with a theory, which I'll get to.

Some say "never put anything acidic on your granite". Okay - so don't spill your wine, splash your salad dressing, or squirt lemon or lime juice on a work surface in your kitchen. Got it. Well, newsflash folks - the only way I will not spill, splash or squirt in my kitchen is if I never go into my kitchen. Which isn't an option.

Others say a mixture of vinegar (an acid) and water works wonders, if applied by a soft cloth. The soft cloth I get.

Paper towels are, after all, made of wood fiber and tend to be coarse so they can scratch. If you don't trust me, get a magnifying glass and look at the fibers - they're coarse. Do the same with that well used, well loved dish towel you've had forever - not coarse. Even Kleenex will scratch glass which is why you're not supposed to use paper towels or Kleenex to wipe your eyeglasses.

But we're not talking about glass. We're talking about glorified rock which masons call "stone". Which is still, when you get down to it, a variant of rock.

So trying to figure out 'why this and not that' is like asking a parent or grandparent who did things the same way every time, "Why do you do it like that?"


Answer: "because it's the way my mother / father did it" or the variant, "That's the way I always do it."

"Why?"

"Well... because." Annoyed glance because you've asked an answer to the immutable. In my experience, the glance was almost invariably accompanied by "why don't you go out and play?" Freeway being the obvious location for said playing in that moment.

This morning I asked the Oracle of the InterWeb - "Why not?" and I got no answer. Just the same old sites with the same old conflicting information.

To me, this is not like taking a parent's advice about not jumping off roofs or bridges or diving head-first into murky water. There's sense in those things - as you'll know if you've ever done something stupid like that and gotten hurt doing it.

This is like A Mystery of the Universe which leads to my theory: They want to sell product.

The sites that say "don't" are trying hard to keep people from using an inexpensive method for cleaning because they want to sell you a more expensive product - like 100x more expensive - that includes the same basic ingredient: ammonia. Or maybe it's vinegar, which would be even less expensive.

Where does this leave me? Why, with my trusty bottle of blue colored ammonia and water, of course. And that raises another wonder-point: why is it blue? Why not clear - as in clean, or...?

Hmm. Another Question for the Ages. But I'll think about that while I go back to my countertops.

Have a lovely day.

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

Living in ... molasses?

I'm not sure what to call it, this period after and between.It's  quieter, more still, than the inside of a Category 7 hurricane.

Yes, yes, I know. Hurricanes are only ranked to Cat-5, but this is even quieter than an eye inside of that. According to Wikipedia, the eye of a hurricane is relatively quiet - and that's how this feels, this time after her passing and... whatever will come next.

For the two weeks immediately following Charlotte's demise, between work and home, I was too busy to really think or feel. In the past week, though, things at home have quieted a bit. Work is still crazed and perhaps that's the issue, but then again... I'm not sure.

For a while, a period of a couple of days in the past seven, I felt empty, like I had nothing inside - no feeling, no nothing.

Charlotte had depression - constant unhappiness or at least dissatisfaction with Life. Her expression gave it away - hand to forehead when she sat in her chair. Even while she ate her drooping eyelids and lips gave a picture of her unhappiness. I can visualize her now, looking miserable. She was agoraphobic, hated leaving the house and disliked having people she didn't know around her.

I haven't felt like that, but the empty feeling, the non-feeling, made me wonder for a time if her spirit had somehow taken control of mine. It was... quiet. Too quiet for me because calm is normal, quiet and disinterested is not. I'm a doer - always wanting to have hands and mind busy even while my eyes are watching something else (hockey and baseball right now) - so the lack of interest in anything had me worried.

For three weeks I haven't wanted to write. I haven't wanted to do anything on the computer, at all, and that is not like me. In the end, I made myself, using force and pressure, to write the post about her passing. Then I wanted to write nothing again. None of my stories, none of the posts here, nothing, and it was worrying.

Today, though, for the first time in several weeks, I feel compelled to write - to say something and give voice to thoughts. Is this the beginning? A re-genesis or re-birth of my writing and interest in creating scenes and characters and developing stories in which I can live for a time? I don't know.

I do know that tomorrow is going to be a reversion to the past few weeks. We still have the garage to go through and clear out, and then the house will be done. I'm pretending the laundry room isn't there but that's a simple matter of Windex, vacuum and a thirty minute window of time.

We'll see. For now, for this moment, this is enough.

I hope to be back. We'll see.

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

There's Equality & Then There's...

I've got my ear plugs ready and waiting. I suspect that in a couple of weeks or less, the screeches from a large part of the female population, mostly leftists, are going to become painfully loud.

Already, a number of go-along-to-get-along voices on the right are warning Trump to 'tone it down' or 'dial it back'. Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for those of us who don't get upset when he says 'boo', it ain't gonna happen. Trump is going to be Trump and that's why I'll vote for him. Twice if I could.

The deal is, I don't want what the women who constantly rant about 'equality' want in our next president. I want a man with a set leading this country, not a spineless wuss who is likeable.

I have no doubt that these same women do not expect or want Hilliary to be polite and sincere and nice to Trump. You can wager that Hilliary is going to come out and play that woman card for all it's worth, until it's all worn out, and Trump is going to meet her right there, in the middle. She is going to be nasty and unpleasant, she is going to pull out all the stops and do what she's always done when confronted by an adversary. As my hubby would say, and as I agree with him having paid attention to her and her antics for the past twenty-five years or so, she is going to 'bitch out' and it is not going to be pleasant to see.

Based on her approach, Trump is not going to sit back, hold the door and be a 'gentleman'. Trump is going to treat Hilliary exactly as he would treat a male opponent in this upcoming race. It doesn't get more equal than that so all I can and will say to the women who take umbrage at his manner of expression, brace yourselves. It's going to get a whole lot worse than it's been. If you want equality, you are going to get it. In spades and, when it comes, don't you dare complain about it. It's what you've said you want so suck it up and get over it.

You see, my attitude toward him and his rhetoric is simple: I am not dating him. My daughter is not dating him. Neither of us are living with him. He is not someone I cook for, clean for, do laundry for. I don't go home to him at the end of the day, and it's a good thing I don't because I don't like a lot of what he says or the manner in which he says it. Therefore, because I have that arm's length relationship, I do not have to like him.

In my view, that's the difference between 'women' and 'girls'.

Women recognize that we don't have to love or admire the male, that we can take his verbal bullying and coarse actions. We can let it pass over us because we're bigger than the words.

Girls don't get that. They get knickerknotted at the first 'mean' or unpleasant thing someone says - as if it's a personal assault. As if they're that important.

Now, with that said, the flip side is what I do like about him. He has the courage of his convictions. When he thinks he's right, he's ready, willing and able to drive a stake into the ground and say, "here". If he thinks he's right, he's not going to back down and bow to the popular sway of the masses - he will do what he thinks is right. He will also, however (and this is BIG), listen to his advisers. He's done it in his business, which is why his primary business is as successful as it is, and I have every confidence he will when it comes to the presidency. It's already showing in how he's pivoting in this election.

He's no longer using the same inflammatory rhetoric he was a couple of months ago. He's begun making reasoned speeches, using the ever-popular teleprompters so he's sure to stay on message. He's already stated that he wants someone with political cred to be his VP - and that is a very smart move.

When people say that Trump "isn't nice" it annoys me to no end because we are not voting for Prom King in this election. This is not supposed to be a popularity contest. We are not voting for Nicest Dude or Cleanest Mouth or Most Polite in Company. We are voting for a leader - someone who is going to take his place on the world stage, nominally at the head of the table. We do not need a "nice guy" who's going to wring his hands and waffle at every bad turn. We need someone decisive, someone who is going to put our interests first, for a change. We need someone with the stones to go toe-to-toe with the bad actors on this planet and out-bully them - not back down and cower in a corner someplace. Although I'm not entirely sure the Oval Office has corners...

All I hope is that the first wave of cacophony from the scorched females in this country won't deafen me at the outset, that I'll have time to get the earplugs in place before the second caterwaul.

Now - have a lovely and quiet day.

Best~
Philippa

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The Loneliest Journey

It's one we all face, and one we will all accomplish by ourselves - no company even if they're holding our hand. It's intensely personal, unique, and must be done by ourselves, inside our deepest places.

MIL passed last Thursday morning - alone as we all are at that time, even when surrounded by loved ones, friends, family or caregivers. She went peacefully after being ill for a long time. We had a chance to say "I'm sorry" and "I love you", the closing things we all wish to say but sometimes don't get the chance to express. There were "I'm sorry" statements, too, which is as it should be since none of us are perfect and all of us trip over another's feelings from time-to-time.

Three times I've been through this immediately, and each has been different, unique.

First with my Dad, whose hand I held until he made it clear he wanted to be left to finish by himself. He was surrounded by family: my mom, his wife of just three weeks shy of fifty years, two daughters, grandchildren and a future son-in-law and a then daughter-in-law. He fought until he couldn't any more, but he was comfortable and assured by each of us, 'it's okay, you can let go'.

The second time was with my father-in-law, who died in the arms of my MIL of a massive heart attack - dead almost before he hit the floor. No one was there but the two of them. By the time I got there the EMTs had left, the Sheriff's deputies were still there, milling around while forensics made sure nothing unusual had happened. MIL was deeply shocked - pale-faced and watching in numb horror while they did what they had to.

When it was all over, I got her to bed and set to working out my frustration with the situation by scrubbing their house.

The third time was last Thursday.

For months, she couldn't get up on her own, walk on her own. Hubby waited on her, literally, hand and foot. Always at her beck and call, up at all hours of the night to check on her, help her, change her, wash her, feed her. Over time she lost interest. First the radio, then the television. Her appetite changed until she was barely eating and had to be hand fed. Finally, she stopped eating and resisted drinking.

In the end she slipped away peacefully, alone while I was on my way back from work where I had gone to pick up some things to do if the wait was longer than a few hours, and while hubby was outside, hanging laundry on the line. He came in and found her, then called me.

The requirements, the small necessary ceremonies of removal, the quiet moments while we absorbed the sudden change in our lives. Phone calls and e-mails to family and friends, closing those doors on a life. That led into the frenetic, almost manic release of anger and fear and grief.

For the past four days, from almost as soon as the funeral home took her body away until yesterday afternoon we cleaned. First, the living room that had been her bedroom for the past four years, then spreading out from there. The downstairs of our house hasn't been this clean since before we moved in, and there's still the upstairs to do. But that's for next weekend.

A chance to work out the anger and fear, a chance to purge ourselves of things she had brought that we never wanted. Along the way we discovered things we didn't even know we had - glassware and some appliances. Things were donated, others were tossed, none will be missed because they were never "ours". They belonged to Charlotte.

There, her name: Charlotte. Not MIL anymore since she has achieved the anonymity of death.

There is no true grieving for me. We weren't close. We lived together, ate meals together, spoke together for the better part of ten years, more than thirty-five as part of an in-law family, but we never bonded, even though we shared a house.

She was too private, too closed-in to let me get to know her inner-self. Conversation was question and answer - she asking and taking while I answered and gave. There was no back-and-forth, no meeting of the minds or expressions of self. After a time, I gave up, settling for doing for her as much as I could, as much as she would allow.

Hubby has mixed feelings. Sadness that released in wild bouts of grief before the fact, when he saw and knew what was coming. More grief and shock after she was gone. Then came a relief, a knowing she wasn't needing his help any more, that she is more comfortable now than she was just a few days ago. No more pain, no more blindness, no more waiting for what we all knew was coming.

Friday we visited the funeral home, another ceremony of signing off on her last wishes - a private ripple that won't include anyone not required. I don't even know what she wanted, except for cremation and not being on the shelf next to her hubby's box. Which we still need to figure out what to do with.

There were periods of quiet, peaceful moments, too. Times for hubby and me to sit and speak, to look around and sigh.

The medical equipment was picked up. Her bed and other furniture are in the garage until we decide what to do with them. More doors closing on what was.

We have our house back. It no longer contains all the things - big and small - that she "had" to have around her when she moved in. For ten years it looked like a Victorian parlour - overcrowded and cluttered. Now, for a change, we can decide for ourselves how we want things to be.

One of the first things we did was to restart the clocks - the grandfather clocks (two of them - one was hers and her husbands, one is ours), the pendulum clocks that give our house its heartbeat but that had been stilled because it was too loud at night for her to sleep. It's back, ticking and tocking, giving life to rooms that had been too still since Thursday morning.

For myself, I feel quiet, accepting. I think of Charlotte as a young woman, dancing, light and free of all that weighed her down on Earth. I wish that for her because it's her due.

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

End of Life is a Cast-Iron Bitch

The past few weeks have been horrible, and they're about to get worse.

My MIL, as I've mentioned before, is eighty-seven - a bad eighty-seven because she didn't take care of herself when she was younger. Her body has been holding on even though her mind has been pretty much gone for years. Now her body is failing and we're facing the hard decisions children have to make for people for whom we care. It sucks, big time.

I was lucky because I grew up in a household where no one pretended that death didn't happen. We didn't discuss it, but it wasn't hushed up or glossed over either.

There were the family pets buried in the backyard with due ceremony.

Early memories that I have are of my grandmother sitting in a chair in what became my brother's room and, sometime later, standing at my bedroom window (where, I'm sure, my mom had told me to stay) watching an ambulance pull away from the house with her on a stretcher. I never saw her again but I remember the morning of the funeral - I was playing on the floor of my parent's bedroom with blocks and they were talking about whether I was old enough to go to the service. I didn't go to the service, so I was young enough not to be reasonable.

When I was in grade school, the older brother of a classmate died of an aneurysm.

It was there, around us, and recognized so while I feared it when I was younger, I understood that it happens to everyone. I've come to terms with it and, while it's not fun or pleasant, it also doesn't have to be dramatic.

I was there when my dad passed. He was surrounded by loving family - my mom, three of his four children and grandchildren.

My mom passed surrounded by most of the family when I was trying out for a new job - I couldn't be there but knowing my mom I knew precisely what she would say: "You do what you need to do. I'll be fine." Which is why I can write that, four years after her death, and not feel anything but the smallest pang of remorse. The remorse being because I feel as if I let her down, even though I know in my heart that she understood.

Hubby, however, is an only child. He never had to deal directly with the end-of-life stuff. One grandmother died in Oklahoma when he was here, in California. The other died in Los Angeles while he was in the northern part of the state. His father died, unexpectedly, when he was out of town.

Now he is facing the reality directly because MIL is dying right in front of his eyes.

Since she was released from the hospital in early April we've had nurses coming every-other-day to check on her, make sure she's improving. For three weeks I've seen what's happening - the lack of any improvement, a decline in function and ability to speak, but kept my mouth shut.

Today, the nurse said what I've recognized - we're in the end-game. Of course hubby is having a hard time coping. It's his mom and he's never had to deal with anything like this before. I also know that it's going to get harder once the initial shock passes him by. For now, though, he's going through the motions.

We had a conference call - hubby, the nurse (who is a marvel - someone who I met just the other day and instantly knew I would like to get to know as a friend) and me. The nurse recommended Hospice and I seconded it because they do such stellar work. I saw it with my Dad and recommend it to everyone and anyone dealing with a family member's End of Days. Hubby acceded to the idea - for the moment.

By the time I get home tonight I know what's going to have happened. He'll have passed through shock and probably through anger (although that's not a guarantee). Then I'll have to cope with denial. But, as I said to him on the phone, she is far enough gone that she is not going to improve, let alone get wholly better. There has been a steady decline in her physical and mental functions for weeks - and now it's time to make her comfortable, to give her the care that will ease her into that next stage.

Not fun, not pleasant, but the only thing we can all expect in this life and it sucks.

Philippa

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Dear Mark - An Open Letter to Mark Levin

Last night, on my way home from work here in California, I tried - and I mean tried hard - to listen to your radio show for more than a couple of minutes, but you made my stomach churn in disgust.

You're a smart guy - I've read two of your books ('Men in Black' and 'Liberty & Tyranny') and found your writing engaging and smart without being condescending.

What I do not get is that you, as a self-declared Conservative and Constitutionalist, are backing a flagrant liar who has zero true love for the Constitution. Lip service doesn't count and actions speak louder than words in this world.

Ted Cruz lied when he said he would go to Washington and work to repeal Obamacare - all the alleged Republicans we voted into office in 2012 said the same thing and where are we now? Obamacare is still in place. The Republicans even had the majority in the House and the Senate for the last two years - so what's the problem? Why is Obamacare still in full force and effect?

I don't get how anyone can call healthcare a "right" within the Constitutional context. Where in the Founding documents was Congress given the power to force American citizens to buy a service or commodity they don't want? Yet he and the others elected in 2012 did nothing to even take a snippet out of that law that was shoved down our collective throats by Congress and SCOTUS.

Ted Cruz lies when he says he wants a sovereign United States with secure borders. He didn't pick up that banner until he saw that it was winning support among millions of American voters. Then he started giving it half-hearted lip service and I do not believe for one nanosecond that he means it.

Ted Cruz is married to a woman who worked for more than five years for the Council on Foreign Relations - the group that wants, as stated on their own website - "globalization".

Now please do not try to play ignorant on this one. Globalization means one-world order - a Tolkien-esque world (One Ring to Rule Them All). The UN wants the same thing - as stated in flowery terms in their 2030 Agenda.

Couples do not share bathrooms, beds, pillows and raising children without exchanging ideas and interests. We know where Heidi Cruz stands on this one-world order idea - she is straight on-board with it. Her name is all over a report for the CFR that calls for a unification of North America into a single entity - similar to the EU. And look at how well that's working out.

So are you telling me, Mr. Levin, that you agree with the globalist agenda? That you want our Constitution to take a back seat (all the way in the back) to some doctrine handed down by the UN and its globalist masters? Is that what you really want?

Because sure as I'm sitting here writing this, that is where you and others like you who support and promote Ted Cruz will drive us if Cruz is elected President.

Aside from that, he is a one-term Senator. What happened with the last one-term Senator who was elected President? Do we really want a replay of the past eight years?

Or is it because you can rest assured in his malleability in the hands of the money makers and power brokers that own his soul? After all, no candidate who has received as many tens of millions of dollars in contributions from Super PACs can walk away without obligation - we all know that.

Whatever it is, all respect I had for you before last night and hearing your constant refrain of "Wonderful Ted" is gone. I cannot fathom how anyone intelligent can get behind someone as bought and paid for as he is, who can swallow his lies whole and still praise him to the skies.

Best~
Philippa

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