Category Archives: General

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) currently has 31 member countries united by the motto “All for one, one for all,” reminiscent of the Three Musketeers. However, this alliance raises concerns: some members are unstable and could provoke attacks that others would be obligated to defend, while certain nations harbor animosity toward the U.S. Recently, Norway even refused to refuel an American ship. Why should the U.S. be bound to defend every member? At the onset of the Cold War, NATO served a purpose, but that era has long since ended.

The principle of collective defense—enshrined in Article 5, which declares an attack on one as an attack on all—sounds noble, but does it hold up? On September 11, 2001, terrorists struck the United States, and while most NATO allies contributed to the response, participation was uneven. The U.S. deployed over 1 million troops, while the rest of NATO sent 300,000—despite Europe’s NATO countries having a combined population nearing 1 billion, dwarfing the U.S. population of roughly 340 million. Some members sent no troops, and Canada cut and ran in 2011; so much for solidarity.

Take Norway, an original NATO signatory, which offered a weak excuse for denying fuel to a U.S. vessel. Or consider Turkey: in 2003, it barred American troops from using its territory as a staging ground for the Iraq invasion. Does anyone honestly believe Turkey would rush to America’s aid in a crisis?

Here’s another twist, contrary to common belief: While the UK and France were in NATO, both were once part of the now-defunct Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO), yet neither sent troops to Vietnam. The U.S., meanwhile, sacrificed over 58,000 young lives in that conflict. NATO members today fail to meet the alliance’s defense spending target of 2% of GDP, effectively freeloading off the U.S. military might instead of bolstering their forces. This imbalance undermines NATO’s strength.

The alliance is increasingly obsolete in a world shaped by new powers like China and other parts of Asia, and problems evolving in the Middle East, Africa, and South America. Leaving NATO would allow the U.S. to make custom deals with nations instead of sticking to an old setup. We would be free to tailor partnerships with individual nations. The current setup risks entangling the U.S. in unwanted conflicts—think of Turkey’s regional disputes or the recent addition of Finland and Sweden, whose proximity to Russia could spark trouble.
Exiting NATO would let the U.S. sidestep these time bombs and focus on defending our interests on our terms. In short, we don’t need it anymore.

Zelenskyy had multiple opportunities to shift the dynamic of this meeting but failed to seize them. As the discussion intensified, Trump asserted himself forcefully, understandably so, considering the history and stakes involved. Yet, he also dialed back the tension at key moments, opening the door for Zelenskyy to pivot. That chance went untaken.

Rather than engaging constructively, Zelenskyy sat with his arms folded, projecting defiance. A simple acknowledgment like, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I deeply value your nation’s support and alliance. Let’s reset and work together,” could have transformed the entire interaction.

Vance was Vance: powerful, incisive, and unyielding. I’ve been in high-stakes negotiations for over 40 years myself; things get fiery when the pressure hits. The trick is staying composed and on point, even when pressing an advantage.

Another lesson is not to negotiate in front of clients; it forces antagonistic behavior. Do that behind closed doors. The result will be the same, but it doesn’t lock you in, forcing you to figure out a way to save face. The people of the U.S. and Ukraine were the clients here.

Some lose sight of the fact that Zelenskyy was there to ink a mineral deal yet chose to try to bully Trump for money and promises with the media present. There’s a time to do it, but not the time he decided, especially when recognizing his dependence on the ally.

In my estimation, Trump navigated this skillfully, exposing Zelenskyy’s abrasiveness and letting Zelenskyy reveal himself as a thug. Vance’s pointed question, “Have you said thank you once?” was brilliant.

The Ukrainian people are the real losers here, stuck with a faltering leader. Trapped between Zelenskyy and Putin, they’re weary of being under fire. Yet their government has stoked the very tensions fueling the conflict. Ukrainians will resist as long as Russian attacks persist, and those attacks will continue as long as Zelenskyy plays the warmongering grifter.

Given the leaders inability to do so, people would value Trump’s effort to curb the fighting between these two warring countries.

Democrats showed contempt during Trump’s address to Congress, refusing to stand for grieving families or brave individuals. They sat silent for the mother of Jocelyn Nungaray, a 12-year-old murdered by illegal immigrants, and for Laken Riley’s family, whose daughter met the same fate. They wouldn’t honor a young man whose father, a slain police officer, was admitted to West Point by Trump mid-speech—even the Joint Chiefs applauded, but not them.

They stayed seated for a 17-year-old North Carolina girl left paralyzed after a transgender player—biologically male—spiked a volleyball with such force into her face that it caused traumatic brain injury and partial paralysis.

They ignored Border Patrol Agent Roberto Ortiz, who took cartel bullets to save his partner; Republicans cheered, but Democrats didn’t budge. They wouldn’t even stand when Trump entered the chamber—unprecedented for an entire party.

Then there’s DJ Daniel, a 13-year-old brain cancer survivor. DJ, to me, became the face of the night. Being diagnosed at eight with five months to live didn’t alter his dream of becoming a police officer; he’s already an honorary in several departments.

Trump made him an honorary Secret Service agent, and Director Sean Curran gave him a badge. DJ’s hug with Curran moved the room to tears and earned a standing ovation—but only Republicans stood. Democrats sat, their hatred for Trump closing their eyes to a child’s courage.

Why dissect their motives? Sociopathatic?, Psychopathic? Plain spite? Rep. Green’s removal for indecorum was terrible, but worse was the image of Democrats sitting, hands idle, as a cancer-fighting, survivor boy was honored. Their refusal to applaud his bravery and love for law enforcement reveals their core: HATE! That’s what Americans saw.

I still have my Daisy No. 25 pump BB gun from around 1960. Back then, I walked around with a friend who had one. I thought it was pretty powerful. We could break bottles, shoot through real cans, and knock things off wires.

Got it for Christmas. My mom was against it, and my dad was okay with it. My mom may have been right to an extent. While I remember having a lot of fun with it, my friends and I did some nasty things with our BB guns.

When we got older, we had BB gun fights. It may sound harsh, but it was the late 1950s or early to mid-’60s and living in a rural area may have influenced our BB gun battles. I looked it up. It turns out it wasn’t unusual.

As seen in the ad, BB guns were marketed straight to youngsters as the ultimate toy. They were our ticket to our cowboy and war fantasies fueled by Wild West and WWII themes from TV screens to movie theaters.

Safety? Parental hovering? Things were different then. The kids didn’t overrule our parents, but much of our playtime was outdoors without parental supervision. We used our BB guns as tools for wild, imaginative adventures, often roping their pals into mock shootouts. Remember, too, that we didn’t have phones to carry around. We played real games that required imagination and movement. We did so much running and biking our average BMI was 12, but we weren’t starving.

I’ll go out on a limb here but ask someone who lived it. They’ll tell tales, some tall, of pinging BBs at tin cans, makeshift targets, and even each other, usually with little more than our naivety for protection.

Risky? You bet! We had a rule of no shots above the waist, but from running and jumping, there were errant shots. Welts were badges of honor, and I suppose a rogue shot might clip an eye every now and then, but back then, it barely made the news; no one was rushing to slap rules on it.

The reality is that I only knew of one kid who shot his eye out, but with a .22 rifle. It seems we liked going to the dump to shoot rats. That line from A Christmas Story, “You’ll shoot your eye out!” sums it up perfectly in the sense that we knew the danger, but it was too much fun to resist.

I’ll answer based on my one experience as a juror; it was enlightening for future work. I was selected just as I was beginning my first year of law school.

The defendant was charged with driving under the influence of alcohol. He blew a .23, about three times the legal limit today. Then, in 1979, the limit was .10, but unlike today, it was not a presumption of guilt. The prosecutor had to prove his erratic driving was the result of being intoxicated. The test was nothing more than a piece of evidence, not the determining factor.

The prosecutor was a young man with a belligerent attitude. The defense attorney appeared to be an older man with a balding head and graying beard. Unlike the prosecutor, he looked gentlemanly and distinguished. I knew both from working as a deputy clerk of the clerk of court’s office.

For about six hours, we listened to testimony. An expert witness explained the workings of the breathalyzer test. The defendant took the stand in his defense. He had been visiting his girlfriend in Akron and was going home to the Youngstown area. His drive required him to pass through our county at about 2:30 a.m. He admitted drinking but attributed his poor driving to being tired.

The prosecutor smirked and questioned him to the point of ridicule. The defense attorney remained the calm professional we, the jury, perceived him to be.

After closing arguments, which were better than the trial in highlighting the contrasting styles of the attorneys, we retired to the jury room. I lived in a small but growing rural county. One of the jurors was from my hometown. We numbered six, all with varying backgrounds. We introduced ourselves with a little background statement to get to know each other. Because I was in law school, the others selected me as a jury foreman.

Not much of a reason to be selected foreman and it didn’t carry much weight. But it did give me a certain privilege, it seems. I suggested an immediate vote without much discussion to gauge where we were. I’d seen it in a movie(12 Angry Men). My thought was maybe we were unanimous already. The attempt failed. It needed discussion, though, and the conversation turned to our thoughts on the case, not so much the facts.

The opening shot came from the man I knew from where I grew up. He didn’t like the reliance on the machine the prosecutor thought so important. To him, it was like our jobs weren’t important. Our decision was being made for us by a test result, and a couple more chimed in to support this view. It opened the door to the defendant driving erratically because he was tired, not because he was under the influence of alcohol. We knew the defendant’s entire day from his testimony before beginning his roughly hour drive home.

It was not explicitly stated, but we knew what it was like to drink, and drive. We also knew it could be tiring driving that early in the morning, regardless of drinking. The story was plausible and created doubt, but something more important was becoming apparent.

The jurors spoke of the demeanor, not of the defendant but the prosecutor. Frankly, he wasn’t liked by the jury. He was thought to be arrogant. The defense attorney wasn’t, though. He appeared to be and acted at all times a gentleman. That, and not liking machines, made the outcome of the vote inevitable.

We marched back into the courtroom in an hour, maybe a little less. One duty as the foreman was to announce the verdict after the judge reviewed it. Our finding of not guilty was met with an angry outburst from the prosecutor as he stood and walked out of the courtroom before it was over.

The judge then thanked us. Now it was over, pretty much. The defense attorney and his client stood. The attorney thanked us for our time and consideration on behalf of his client, calling him by name. His client nodded his assent. Now we were finished.

As an aside, all these years later, my wife and I are currently represented by the prevailing attorney. I told him the story and remembered the case. He was disappointed with the jury and how we reached our decision. He remembered his client because he had never been paid and had tried to withdraw, but the judge wouldn’t allow him out. For me, it was a learning experience for later.

So, as far as the cartoon, we found the defendant not guilty in significant part because of the arrogance of the prosecutor. Se La Vie, as we say here.