I know I always say “Now we’ve seen it all,” but this time Liberals have stooped to a new low, even for them.
Vogue Magazine is now reporting that Ivanka Trump, President Trump’s daughter, and confident is now to be considered “untrustworthy.” “Why” you may be asking yourselves? Because the liberal rag that is Vogue Magazine is claiming she wasn’t able to persuade her father to continue with the insane social justice experiment former President Barack Hussein Obama started by having transgendered people serving as soldiers in the US military.
Yes, Vogue is the very same magazine that has said multiple times before that we need heavy background checks and phycological tests in order for “Average Joe” to go buy a firearm, is ok with arming people for battle who are so damned confused that they don’t even know if they possess a wee wee or a hoo hoo.
Another school shooting. My knees go weak as I sit on the couch searching for details. Although I have never been involved in one of these tragedies, they are deeply personal for me.
It is every parent’s nightmare to get the call that his or her child has been the victim of a shooting. The call I fear is that my child is the shooter. My handsome, blue-eyed son—we’ll call him Russell—is autistic and mentally ill. Now 18, he is at that vulnerable stage when young men so often go off the rails. He is also old enough to buy a gun.
Both sides of the gun-control argument agree that certain people should not have access to guns. Throughout Russell’s difficult childhood, I have known that he is one of those people. I never considered that the law would allow him to purchase a gun, and that I wouldn’t be able to prevent it.
Russell’s struggle started at 3 years old, with hallucinations both visual and auditory. He’d see dead people lining the streets in old-fashioned clothing, or owls in his closet, or dinosaurs in the hall, or dragons—lots of dragons, which would swoop around him and protect him with their wings. He’d conjure them for comfort to hide him from a world he did not understand.
But the comfort came at a price. The wall of wings would clap around him, trapping him in a terrifying void, a void where he could not see or hear the real world, or any of us who lived in it. He’d curl up in a ball in the corner of the classroom, or in the middle of the playground, and soil himself. I’d race to the nurse’s office with fresh clothes and fold him in my arms, hoping that love would seep through where words could not.
In young children, the bipolar swings that adults experience over the course of days is sped up like a roller coaster. Russell’s hyperactive peaks plummeted into depression or anger 15 to 20 times a day. The shifts were sudden, requiring only the slightest pressure on his hair trigger. One minute, he was bouncing off the walls so joyfully the house would shake. But give him a blue dinner plate instead of his favorite green one, and he would angrily sweep his arm across the table, smashing the food to the floor. I tried to assert authority, but as a single mother, it was hard to embody both the softness needed to get him through the day and the firmness required of discipline. He knew I had limits, and he didn’t hesitate to exploit them.
“I want a cookie,” he once said while I was making dinner, pointing to the jar on the top of the refrigerator.
“We’ll be eating in a minute,” I said. “You can have one when we are finished eating.”
“I want one now!” he screamed, pulling over a chair to climb on.
“I said after dinner.” I firmly blocked his path with my body. At 8 years old, he was nearly my height and solidly built. His face grew red as he tried to push me away. It took all my strength to hold on to the refrigerator.
“Now, you bitch!” he screamed, balling up his fists like the playground bullies who tormented him. He punched me until I moved.
As physically aggressive as he was with me, it was his hearing- and speech-impaired little brother who took the brunt of it. They are 19 months apart in age, and they could not be left alone together; the kitchen knives were always under lock and key. When incensed, Russell would go into gory detail as to how he would chop off his brother’s head and roll it down the street like a bowling ball. A therapist once tried to parse Russell’s anger.
They go on to blast Ivanka Trump by writing that she has displayed no political capital whatsoever in her father’s White House. And that it’s time to accept that there’s a good chance she never will. They continue by saying liberals need to stop expecting Ivanka will do anything meaningful with her proximity to power and that it would be pointless to continue to note her silent opposition to her father’s agenda or paint her as a “bastion of virtue” amid “Steve Bannon’s alt-right swamp”.
They end the whine fest by coming to terms that Ivanka isn’t going to save them, or anyone else from the sane policies her father, President Trump, is promoting. And she is not going to stand in his way as he, in their words, “Sanctions potentially unconstitutional discrimination from the Oval Office.” These Liberals are coming more unhinged with each passing day!
I have a question for the “Political Gurus” over at the Liberal Rag Vogue Magazine, Did you ever call out Chelsea Clinton for not taking her father, President Bill Clinton, to task for being a sexual predator?
Please share if you agree Vogue should stick to fashion for anorexic women and stay out of politics….
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