Published by

Ron Schalow

Ron Schalow is the owner of Iceberg Publishing, president of The Coalition for Bakken Crude Oil Stabilization and an amatuer agitator. Among Schalow's writings are two books: a nonfiction book about 9/11 and the movements of George W. Bush on that tragic day called "Bull$#!* Artist”; and a novel about an unlikely group of American suicide bombers who have been dropped into the tribal regions of Pakistan. It is named "Perfect Whackjobs." Schalow lives in Fargo.

RON SCHALOW: Kevin Cramer Must Go

It’s not even a close call, so save the coin toss. Cramer takes North Dakotans for granted and assumes he’s in a safe district. Why, because he’s such a charmer?

Guess again, smirk-boy. Smug-boy. Whatever. I’m older than the kid, so I can say that. Plus, I don’t care. I don’t feel any pleasantness oozing from my aura.

After decades of government jobs, by appointment or election, it’s time for Kevin Cramer to be forced to get a job where he can do less damage.

In case you were wondering, Kevin Cramer will vote for the user’s manual of a Hamilton Beach four-slice toaster if the order comes down from the repellent Munster kid — or the Denny’s menu-signing circus peanut. He has no personal integrity. No brain, no strain.

Our congressman voted it’s on the record to cruelly send millions of the people, “on our side,” to their graves, including innocent children, and 7 million veterans. Never underestimate what this @$$hole will do.

Who needs ISIS or the North Korean fat kid? Just cool your jets, fellas. We’ve got the “death to America” stuff covered by the Party of Lincoln. They’ve had some philosophical changes in the past 150 years, which Abe never endorsed — or ever envisioned.

Their antics probably crossed Stephen King’s mind, though. The health care horror story is likely on its way to Barnes and Nobles, as the representatives celebrate with foreign beer and domestic strippers.

We hire the weasels, send them where all of the lobbyists hang, pay them handsomely, give most of them too much respect, and they hurriedly plot our demise. Drive-through suicide, the Trump hatchlings call it. Bodies will be catapulted over the wall.

Donald Trump said “everyone” would be covered. That was a lie. We’ve seen this con before, and it wasn’t on the midway, where the Trump cousins hand out bags of water and a small orange carp. Bait, depending on the locale. It wasn’t a little white lie, either. It was a Trump-sized and textured, pile of horse$#!*. Kevin Cramer doesn’t care.

Not that anyone paying attention should be surprised. Our congressman has always been a tool.

He doesn’t even try to hide it. Did he know that his oil buddies were sending 30,000 gallon soup cans of butane, methane, propane, ethane and other explosive gases, mixed with the fine Bakken crude, down the rail? Sure. Did he care? Nope. Even when 47 Quebecers died, it didn’t faze him.

When it was determined that 60 to 70 would likely die in a Fargo or Bismarck Bakken train explosion, it didn’t faze him. Cramer won’t cross the North Dakota Petroleum Council. The same could be said for the North Dakota GOP. Smaller weasels. Possibly voles.

The Pipeline and Hazardous Materials Safety Administration and Sen. Schumer care, though. And quite a few other politicians throughout the nation, who don’t want their constituents vaporized.

What bothers Cramer, is women wearing white in front of the president. Big Don could have figured that his Klan pals were in the house, or he could have gotten confused about the venue. Trump’s not too sharp — and often gets makeup in his eyes. He might have thrown out the first pitch to Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who rarely carries her catcher’s mitt in public but is considered a splendid receiver.

Meanwhile, at the same event, the dignified Congressmen Cramer, seething in the standard male uniform, yelped like an excited Mexican Chihuahua hombre pup, when the Trumpmeister announced the go-ahead for the Dakota Access pipeline.

Kevin is fascinated with, and has an abnormal love for, a carbon-based liquid, that began its development through one of the quirks of nature, that took place a few million years ago — it wasn’t a given that it would exist— but proved to be useful, when humans decided they needed one-day delivery on 16-foot-long $600 ties from the Trump Collection. The great man spit on each one, which makes them collectors items — or evidence.

I considered some Trump Fragrance, but who wants to smell like an obese sweaty golfer — and crocodile breath? I can handle that myself, without taking out a loan. Melania is said to love the odor, which is one of the reasons why she lives so close — 200 miles is about right — to the lumpy beast. I’m not talking about their pet camel, Wally. He smells like waffles.

Cramer is talking like Trump, much more lately, which leads some people to think that he’s losing his grip on the reality thing. Classic Trump.

Crying about some people being mean to him because he can’t answer basic questions at one his “town halls” in the Socialist Republic of Fargo. Then he runs to Rob Port, on WDAY-AM in Fargo, to complain about his constituents and claim that he was set up for something, by the group Indivisible. It’s a lie, but like Trump, it doesn’t matter.

A group wants to drop off some petitions at his office. But they can’t, because the office is supposedly closed, and three regulation-size cops are on hand to keep two small scary women from entering the office building.

Cramer’s story, also shared with his pal Port on WDAY-AM, is that the owner of the building knew a loitering horde had broken through the perimeter weeks ago, plenty of time to have the police on hand. But the congressman had no clue. Plus, he’s so unconnected with the humans in Fargo, he could not find one person to man the office for 30 minutes. Another crock of $#!*, but he’s sticking to it. Crafty women! Always taking advantage of Kevin.

Sean Spicer, the press secretary for the president, thought it was a good idea (it wasn’t) to compare Syrian President al-Assad to Hitler, saying that good old Adolf wasn’t so unhinged, as to use chemical weapons (on the battlefield). Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Cue Cramer. Stupid? Pshaw. That’s his specialty. Because he’s such a powerful member of the House — and not too bright —  Kevin jumps into the outhouse pit without reservation. Sean was “technically” right, he claims. This Hitler story is being distorted by the media and their fancy digital movie cameras. Well, Spicer had already apologized and likely wanted to hide under his bed until after the impeachment. Cramer just looked like a doofus. Perfect Trump material.

Back before the election, when Kevin did think he was Trump material, and a valued adviser, he prepped the grabby, disabled mocking, bastage for his speech in Bismarck, dreaming of being named Energy secretary. Actually, Cramer was the perfect person to ruin the department and do away with the silly protections for water, air and people. When will the government ever get its boot off the throat of the most profitable industry the world has ever known, and set them free to make real money?

After the speech, experts, real experts, wrote that it was as if Trump didn’t understand the basics of the marketplace. He certainly had no clue about coal. The coal industry is dying due to the free market, and it will never employ as many men it did in the heyday in the Appalachians, when it treated the workers like bad meat and simply buried the ones who died on their feet, in the woods, and then sent another one into the hole. The black lung was free, though.

Now, mechanization has replaced humans, and they blow up a mountain just to claim a small seam of coal, and scrape up the black chunks with huge payloaders. Luckily, thanks to Trump, the companies don’t need to worry about the coal crap that ends up in the streams — and gives the water some flavor. This is Cramer’s man. An idiot.

Kevin has always been a little nutty. He seems to delight in taking things away, like food from kids, then whipping out his holy interpretation of the Bible, which reads differently than my copy — or the one that Trump carries around as a prop.

Cramer has to go. He is not a nice man — or a good man. People that know him well, and relations say this. Now, it’s clear that he could care less about our lives, either jeopardized through the lack of access to health care or the indifference to public safety.

Some will say that Cramer acts kindly to certain individuals, which is great, but his responsibility carries greater weight than the neighbor with the kind heart. Millions are left hanging in the wind if this preposterous health care bill should survive the process, which is apparently what our congressman wants. He friggen voted for it. He lacks empathy, trustworthiness, credibility, and he’s a major suck up. He’s not statesman. He’s a lemming. A sheep. A snowflake. UnAmerican.

You’re Only as Good as the Company You Keep

Cramer’s adoration for Trump should make every self-respecting North Dakotan gag. I could go on forever about Trump’s transgressions that affected the poor, minorities, honest craftsmen, women, ripped off students, blah, blah, bah. Plus, it’s on the record.

Donnie lied 555 times in his first 100 days in a job that requires a qualified adult, a truth teller and not a bullshitter. He has proven that he hasn’t the part of the brain that keeps normal people from lying once per minute — and not caring.

Trump is an admitted sex offender. It wasn’t locker room talk. It was admission of an assault. I’ve been in plenty of locker rooms, and BS like grabbing a woman by the @#&*%$# is the obvious crude braggadocio of a sleazy bloviating jackass and would be treated accordingly. Cleats to the balls, 5-iron to the throat or basketball to the face. Something painful, instead of the whimpering of apologists, like Cramer, who aren’t fond of women in the first place.

Does Kevin approve of a grown man taking a stroll through a dressing room of teenage girls? If he approves of Trump, he does.

How about the cheating on all of his wives?

How about his funny disabled man imitation?

How about his snide remark about a news reporter’s menstrual cycle?

How about Trump’s general lack of morals? Sociopathy?

Flip, flop, flop, cough, gibberish. Which of the policies that Trump has today appeal to our congressman? Not those of yesterday, or this morning, or tomorrow, or the second part of his last sentence, but this moment.

Russia, Russia, Russia.

Hot off the press: “100 Days of Accomplishments Under Trump,” by Kevin Cramer, which puts an end to any speculation to whom our congressman is loyal. If it’s not to the people of this state, what good is he?

Just for Members of the North Dakota Legislature Who Support Trump and Won’t Accept the Facts Behind Their Own Actions, Who also Need to be Retired

One Topic — Oil Taxes

Members of the North Dakota GOP, and their shills, continue to deny that the oil extraction tax was cut in 2015 by the Legislature. They lie. Our state has lost millions of dollars of revenue to out-of-state oil barons. Meanwhile, some of our most vulnerable citizens continue to suffer.

The tax deniers want people to believe that taking to two unrelated issues, mashing them together and calling it reform, obscures the fact that taxes were unnecessarily cut for global oil companies. They can call it reform, form-fitting, secret formula, formaldehyde, formidable, or anything else, but it’s still a tax cut.

RON SCHALOW: Paranoid Politics Behind The Refugee Hubbub

The repugnant grabby Donald Trump, with a white nationalist on his staff, wasn’t the first loudmouth reality TV star, or low-watt nativist leader, to figure out that fear is a great motivator — and vote getter.

Unsavory foreigners are pouring across our borders by the thousands for crissakes, don’t you know. Believe me. Are you jumpy, yet? I’ve heard they’re all carrying recently sharpened machetes.

We need a big beautiful wall, 18 rows of razor wire and some Mexican hombre is going to get a MOAB — the mother of all bills — in his mailbox, followed by the grandfather of all customer service calls. Trust me.

Refugees aren’t being vetted, so they will just have to wait, while they’re on double0secret probation, and get supervetted.

Be afraid of Muslims. That goes without saying. I’m working on a Muslim ban, but the stupid judges are worried about that Constitution thing.

Stupid backward baseball caps, silly clown hair, wearing a fez, while driving one of those kooky little cars and spooking the horses in the parade. Wear any goofy, or non goofy thing, you want on your head. This is American.

Good Christian American women used to — maybe still do — wear scarves over their heads to protect newly styled hair from the wind. Some wear them around the throat as a fashion accessory.

But if you have darker skin and wear a scarf over your head, be prepared to get harrassed by some rube at the grocery store.

Of course, Trump is liar. Most people know that.

But now, the brown-tinted foreigner hysteria has awakened politicians in Fargo — and North Dakota. There is a good-sized segment of the population that’s on board with the rhetoric, so it makes sense that a few lesser Trumps would jump in the mud for votes.

They pretend to be concerned about the cost — as if we’re worried when a big company brings 2,000 jobs to town — when it all boils down to fear — and votes. And it works.

North Dakota State Rep. Christopher Olson, in a fit of concern for our ability to absorb a few hundred people of a certain type, attempted to pass a refugee bill in the Legislature, but it was downgraded to a study. If the Republicans ever studied anything, they might be informed, and they aren’t about to start reading things now.

Fargo City Commissioner Dave Piepkorn demanded to know the costs to the city, specifically from refugees. No one else. Not revenue generated by refugees. Just one side of the ledger.

So, responding to the spasmodic threats of the large red-faced Fargo commissioner, the little people, in Piepkorn’s eyes, scrambled to see how much it was costing for refugees to use OUR streetlights, and OUR left turn lanes. And oooh, don’t forget the wear and tear on OUR park slides.

There were two trees planted on MY boulevard, at substantial cost — holes don’t dig themselves, people — by the city, but they haven’t attracted much of a crowd. One tree died, but it wasn’t due to a stabbing, any type of island voodoo or terrorist activity. Credit both trees to me. A northern European, one generation removed on my paternal side and twice removed on my maternal side. Mark it down.

There is also a $#!%load of expensive foam that firefighters fruitlessly spray on exploding oil trains. We can’t talk about who should be paying for that. The commissioner knows, but those cats aren’t so easy to pick on. Deaths be damned.

It helps to be big, if you’re a bully, ballast for cruise ship, and refuse to do any of your own research. Piepkorn probably intimidates some people.

Personally, I think he has too many chins. I realize that comment was not politically correct —and mean — but Piepkorn hates those politically correct types. Being PC is nothing more than NOT being a dick. NOT. Some people talk about PC like a bramble bush was jammed down their shorts.

The Piepkorn Goes Full Rage

“In a voice full of outrage, City Commissioner Dave Piepkorn demanded why the city didn’t have a say in how many refugees are settled here.”

Me: Talk to the State Department. Enunciate clearly, or something could get MOABed or Tomahawked. This refugee thing has been going on since the ’40s. Get on the Google, and you might know what’s going on, commissioner. And non-Native wanderers have been coming to this continent for a 1,000 years, and it wasn’t until lately that anyone thought to ask.

Seattle, and a thousand other cities, don’t have a say in how many explosive Bakken oil trains are allowed to pass by their people and stuff. Get worked up about that, Dave.

“It’s a “huge decision” made by Lutheran Social Services, tasked by the federal government with refugee resettlement in North Dakota, that creates a burden on local taxpayers, he complained at the commission’s Monday, Oct. 10, meeting.”

Me: No, it doesn’t create a burden, Pieps. Sorry. If the Bison start out 0 – 4, then we’ll see some real angst bubble up, and a little will probably get on your shoes.

“Piepkorn posed three questions to LSS CEO Jessica Thomasson, beginning a brief but intense dialogue: One, how much is paid for each refugee who settles in Fargo-Moorhead? Two, who decides how many are settled here? And three, does LSS have some legal responsibility for how they behave when they move here?”

Me: This could have been handled in two minutes over the phone, but the political impact of public outrage would have been wasted. We get it. You’re outraged. Please go to Mexico.

Piepkorn interrupted to complain: “That’s unacceptable. To think that someone else is determining the number of refugees that we can handle. Their decisions impact our budget, the schools, the parks and on and on. As far as I know, we’re not included. Are any of the city commission included?”

Me: Everybody but you because who needs all of the shouting. Dave’s not home, man.

“As far as I know, we’ve had not participation,” Piepkorn said. “To me, to think city leaders are not involved in this. This is a huge decision made by you, that’s encumbering us.”

Me: Who is encumbered? And if you can’t remember if something happened, you have larger problems, big fella.

“I hope everyone is hearing what she’s saying: They’re refugees and when they come here, they have all the rights of a legal citizen?” Piepkorn asked.

Me: Residents. Not citizens. Yeah, I HOPE everybody heard that because it’s going to be in my campaign literature. And what rights would you like to take away from certain residents? Speech? Guns? Refusing to board soldiers without consent?

Piepkorn angrily disagreed: “The credibility of these people,” he said pointing in Thomasson’s and Mahli’s direction before trailing off. “I want to have accountants find out. People are telling us everything is fine and dandy. I’m sorry, everything is not fine and dandy. What happened in St. Cloud is not fine and dandy. I don’t want that to happen again.”

Anyway, Piepkorn stomps his feet and voila!

The New American Economy, a national organization and the American Action Forum, sent out a letter signed by 1,500 economists, both Republican and Democrats. that verified that immigrants and foreign-born humans who live in North Dakota paid $124.6 million in taxes in North Dakota in 2014.

From the Fargo Forum:
“Some of us favor free markets while others have championed for a larger role for government in the economy. But on some issues there is near universal agreement. One such issue concerns the broad economic benefit that immigrants to this country bring.”

“On average, a first generation immigrant is cost POSITIVE in North Dakota by approximately $3,250 per individual,” the report said, citing a 2016 study by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine, a group of nonprofit organizations in Washington, D.C.

In other words, refugees don’t present a cost. They produce revenue for the state and Fargo, which is a GOOD thing.

Case closed, right?

Nope. The educated experts weren’t enough to convince the usual suspects, who wouldn’t believe anything that didn’t fit their narrative.

Did I say experts? People educated in the subject at hand? Oh, pshaw. I talked to this guy, who said that some terrorist-looking guy has been out in the woods scoping out something with binoculars. Or he could have been bird-watching. Is it worth taking the chance?

If a proclamation was magically transported to White Butte on two shale tablets, written by the staff of Gandalf, and read aloud by the Force Ghost of Obi-Wan Kenobi, they would scoff.

In September 2016 a 20-year-old Somali refugee, who moved to the United States when he was 3 months old, stabbed 10 people at a St. Cloud, Minn., mall. No fatalities. No connection to any terrorist groups.

That incident spooked Piepkorn.

Commission Piepkorn evidently holds Lutheran Social Services, which resettles refugees in North Dakota, at the behest of the U.S. State Department because accepting refugees is part of our foreign policy, responsible for the attack in St, Cloud. Silly, right?

Not to Dave. He demanded that Lutheran Social Services prevent any knife attacks in the future. Piepkorn didn’t mention how the hell anyone could make such a promise. I don’t think my next door neighbor is going to lose it, although he does have a nice collection of mall attack knives, but I can’t guarantee it. And he doesn’t seem to like it when I stare at him through his windows.

Plus, that’s not what Lutheran Social Services does. It does what they are contracted to do, and it doesn’t involve chipping a toddler and tracking his movements for the duration of the kids life span. Look at the LSS website, for Pete’s sake!

So, good old Pieps showed us his tell. Cost isn’t his primary concern, if it is at all. He thinks infants, from the Mideast, can grow into killing machines. Who couldn’t? And who is responsible if a Norwegian-American goes off the rails at the Kirkwood Mall, in Bismarck? The Sons of Norway?

“I’ll get to the nut of it,” Piepkorn said in October 2016. “I believe the refugees that come here, they have health care, they have housing, they have transportation all provided for them. They are competing against the people who live here making 10 bucks an hour, but they have a huge advantage because refugees have all those advantages. We’re bringing in competition against the current residents and I believe that’s hurting our low income people who live here. It’s almost as if it would be better for them to apply as refugees and get benefits than to be an American citizen.”

What a crock of $#!* and false. A huge advantage because they know how to dodge bombs? Who does he think he is, Trump?

Cass County Commissioner Chad Peterson is another concerned official — about the costs, of course. He’s worried about being called a racist or xenophobe, if anyone asks for a calculation. Weak. That’s the favorite out. Everybody isn’t screaming racist. That’s a fable.

“Government shouldn’t be in the business of feelings and hugs and kisses,” said Peterson. Or common sense, or willing to look at facts that defy rigid beliefs. I’ll take a pass on the hugs and kisses from Peterson, and no one from the government has ever offered me a hug or kiss, so I’m suspect of Peterson’s grasp on what people think.

Valley News Live

Then, there is Valley News Live, a Fargo station. A year or so, ago, it reported and promoted the fiction of tuberculosis-riddled refugees. The story was debunked, but its attitude remains the same. It’s a business decision. It has decided to cater to the anti-refugee ( and anti-other things) crowd. It’s reprehensible but evidently profitable.

State Rep. Christopher Olson tried to palm off the same TB story, so we know how pure his intentions are.

From Valley News Live: Likely written by Ike Walker or Chris Berg. Perhaps they struck their heads together, to generate the necessary heat. Who knows?

“It was initiated last fall after Fargo City Commissioner Dave Piepkorn started asking questions about the issue, specifically the costs to various aspects of the city. But did the question ever actually get answered?”

Me: Yes, but he doesn’t care, and neither do you people.

“A good characterization for Thursday’s event: little information, frequent applause and no outright critics. And it left many asking, did they actually answer the question: how much does it cost?”

Me: Many were asking? Like who? You wrote that there are no outright critics. The sentences were connected.

One, I guess. “Well I don’t think we got any answers,” said Cass County Commissioner Chad Peterson. “What this should have been in my mind was a brief meeting that took about five minutes. It costs X.”

Me: Ignorance to how life works is not an attractive quality. Not everything is quantifiable — or can be answered with an X. But numbers were offered. Numbers that proved that there is not a cost but positive return. Repetitive, I know.

“I want to look at the numbers. I want to look at the sources, I want to look at everything and see where we’re at,” explained Fargo City Commissioner Tony Gehrig.

Me: Go ahead, Tony.

“You know the Human Relations Commission wanted to release it this way and that’s their prerogative I suppose,” said Gehrig.

Me: Released at a meeting open to the public? I see the problem. Obviously, trickery was involved.

Here’s how Valley News Live chose to characterize the gathering, and the information offered.

“How did they release it? At the noon-hour event, inviting the public to attend but not allowing public comment and they offered a 22-page document. It pulls information from a study by the pro-refugee organization Partnership for a New American Economy and other various local and national studies.”

Me: Oh, a pro-refugee organization? Well, then it has be false, unlike the demonstrably false slime Valley News Live passed off as news. And either something has too many pages, or too few, for the Trumpites.

“But the specific question of what refugee resettlement costs you the taxpayer, that information is not contained in this report.”

Me: The cost is zero. If you’ve ever read a profit-and-loss statement, you can have zillion expenses, but if the revenue exceeds the expense tally, you have a winner. A profit. Not a cost, you dense $#&*@#$!%’s.

Here’s a good one. “However, refugees and immigrants are two entirely different specifications. Refugees are defined by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees as someone who has been forced to flee their country because of the fear of persecution, war or violence. An immigrant is someone who moves to live in a foreign country permanently.”

Me: Thanks for this useless string of definitions, but the report includes any foreign-born human, so let’s not try to look for cracks where there are none. I’m have no doubt that this nonsense will play well with your regular audience, though, which is the object of spreading this manure on salted land.

“Also, remember this study was done at the request of Commissioner Dave Piepkorn. He was not in attendance at Thursday’s meeting, and Valley News Live has been told he’s on vacation in Mexico.”

Me: That’s his problem.

Bonus Piepkorn

Asked if he missed anything from the report, Piepkorn said, “No, nothing substantial, that’s for sure.” He then referred to the report as “propaganda and fake news.”

Me: Pieps has the talking points down. He just needs to Tweet them, to start the firestorm, and end up on Hannity.

“I do want to see numbers that are based on facts,” he said. “I won’t tolerate people who try to blow smoke up my dress. A lot of people don’t want to know what those numbers are. I promise we will get those numbers.”

Me: I wouldn’t think of blowing anything up Dave’s skirt. He’s kind of a condescending knob.

“Now that Gov. Doug Burgum has signed into law a legislative study looking at various aspects of refugee resettlement in North Dakota, Piepkorn said he is optimistic the numbers he wants will eventually come out.”

Me: Nobody is optimistic about anything the Legislature does. Does he think these phantom numbers have fallen behind some old filing cabinet in the basement? Maybe.

“They are our guest. If they’re not behaving, they don’t get to stay,” he said.

Me: If “they” aren’t behaving, “they” are arrested and tossed into the pokey. Or possibly shot to death, like the young man in St. Cloud. Severe enough?

“My track record is I ask questions about how our money is being spent,” he said.

Me: Not all of it, dude.

A recall election would provide an “opportunity for a lot of people to send a message to the politically correct,” Piepkorn told Thomas.

Me: If you believe the numbers provided in the report, you’re one of those snowflake politically correct lib%$&# cucks, who doesn’t think he’s smarter than the experts.

The Portweasel

Now for my favorite smear blogger, and agent of misinformation, lying and BS, for Forum Communications. As near as I can figure, all of the big shots were sitting in a darkened office sipping single malt one cold night, and one of them said, “I think we have too much credibility.”

Answer, Rob Port, the cheese-eating cowardly bastard from Minot.

His headline: Refugee Report From Fargo’s Human Relations Commission Reveals Very Little

“The problem with the debate of refugee resettlement here in North Dakota is that we really don’t have a lot of data on its impacts.”

Me: There are no impacts. What are the impacts, Portweasel, and what data would satisfy your chosen bias? He doesn’t know. This is just a copy and paste from earlier posts, a real time saver for no talent yokels, that say the same damn thing, over and over.

“But even the push to address that information vacuum has proved politically harrowing. Those who want to explore the issue are accused of bigotry by strident left wing ideologues.”

Me: Misinformation, lies and BS. Oh, my! A strident harrowing vacuum. What a tool.

“Fargo has seen the largest number of refugees over the year, and city leaders there did ask their Human Relations Commission to study the issue.

When you’re done reading it, you probably won’t know much more about refugee resettlement in the Fargo area than you do now.”

Me: If you’re moron, maybe. Keep in mind that Port isn’t too sharp, or educated, but he really thinks he’s an expert on any topic. He knows how to run a college the size of North Dakota State University, but chooses to use his skills criticizing his “colleagues” from a safe distance. Port is a climate denier, who insists that no oil taxes were cut by the Legislature, so he has trouble with facts. He’s also a Trump apologist, a Kevin Cramer lackey and a corporatist shill. And those are his good qualities.

“The report itself, once you scroll past a lot of the pretty pictures and lists of participants and other pablum, is pretty short. It acknowledges that there isn’t a lot of data available and then describes information gleaned mostly from a National Academy of Sciences study and some anecdotes.”

Me: The pablum came real educated economists, not a professional couch accessory.

“We learn that refugees, much like anyone else, work jobs and earn money and then spend that money in the local economy. Which is great! But not exactly revelatory information.

The one thing the report does illustrate is just how little information is available on refugee resettlement.”

Me: As the witless wonder, who has never had a work-related callous, says, “much like anyone else.” Now, that’s some disturbing news. There has to be a way to twist “normal human” into wicked horned creatures. That’s never been tried before.

Because you can never get enough Port, here are some snippets from his second post on the great refugee report, titled: Wrong Time for a Vacation Mr. Piepkorn

Me: Port loves chastising people.

“The latter issue was the casus belli for the recall effort, but the former has been more damning.”

Me: Yes, Port is also a wiz with Latin.

“For instance, earlier this year was called out for making demonstrably false statements about the head of Lutheran Social Services in North Dakota. That organization handles refugee resettlement in this state, and while they deserve plenty of criticism, it was foolish of Piepkorn to say things that weren’t true. Either he didn’t know what he was saying was wrong or he made things up.” (That’s how he wrote it, folks)

Me: Clownboy says,”it was foolish of Piepkorn to say things that weren’t true.” I would say that telling lies was wrong, not foolish, but I don’t live in the world where telling lies is part of the gig, like cotton candy head, or the Portweasel. I showed the Port, and Forum Communication, the “demonstrably false statements” the round mound made about me. His courageous response, Block me from commenting on any platform.

“And to be fair, the report was mostly worthless.”

Me: Bull$#!*, you three-toed tree sloth, to be fair.

“Do better, Mr. Piepkorn.”

Me: Do better, Portweasel. You’re an embarrassment to the Internet.

Related: One of Port’s finest smears and the rebuttal

Anatomy of an Outrage

“No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark.” ― Warsan Shire, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth

RON SCHALOW: Love, American Style

Stan shuffles into the dark bar, stands still for a minute to let his pupils expand, and waits for the blindness to dissipate. Then, without moving, he hollers, “ORV! ARE YOU IN HERE?”

A strange voice answers from the shadows. “Which Orv are you looking for?

“The ornery one.”

“Oh, he’s sitting at the bar.”

Stan shuffles over to the barstools, cane in hand. “Orville, you scamp! Why didn’t you answer when I called out?”

“I was hoping you would go away,” grumbles Orv.

“Have I ever?” chirps Stan.

“No. But you seem to be getting denser by the minute, so it was worth a shot. I’ll keep trying until I get results, or literally throw a shot your way. Hey! Other Orv! Keep your yap shut in the future.”

Stan stares at nothing. “Yeah. I am getting dumber. That’s going to be problem in the future, or I could just run for president. Intelligence doesn’t seem to be a requirement for that gig. And our congressman is an idiot of biblical proportions. Mini Trump is what we kids call the smirking, condescending Cramer bastard.”

“Maybe they’re hitting Donnie too hard with the Adirondack in the morning. They could switch to aluminum, I suppose, but those will leave a dent, too.”


“I just assumed that Reince, or one of the other nitwits from F Troop, was giving the president a good whack in the forehead with a baseball bat, first thing in the morning, to jar a few of the remaining neurons into action. They aren’t doing something right, though. Don’s still an embarrassment. Maybe the Priebus feller isn’t strong enough to take a good cut. I think Jose Canseco could be hired for a reasonable price.”

“They need somebody with power to all fields. Good grief. You’ve seen the Trumpbage try to string a few words together. It’s not decodable. Exponential gibberish. He realizes that this is an English-speaking country, for the most part, doesn’t he?”

“Shut up, Stan!”

“Maybe he’s playing his Rosetta Stone English CD’s backward and hearing those hidden messages from Charles Manson they talk about. This is Steve Bannon’s doing, I bet. He’s been in a knife fight with the Jewish son-in-law for access to the Play Dough between the ears of the royal @$$hole.”

“Shut up, Stan!”

“I wonder how many times someone in that putrid environment enviously said, he went to Jared? I think the Kushner kid is running the country, which suits me fine. We could have picked a name out of a hat and been better off than having the fat @$$. He’s not even trying to make sense of all of the details necessary to be the friggen president. Who ever thought that being president would be so time-consuming. He’s going to just BS — and golf — his way through it all, as always.”

“Bartender!” yells Orv. “Fill it to the rim, and keep it there, please.”

“Still on the Smirnoff, I see. A rich dick like you should be sipping Stoli, or some other clear alcohol on the top shelf. I’ll have a Coke, bartender, if you’re interested, after I’ve been hanging onto the bar for balance these last 15 to 45 minutes. I’m not good at time, in the same way you’re not good at bartending. I don’t have as much money as this spud-fed @$$hole, but I can pay, so if you don’t mind.”

“Quit giving the kid a hard time,” grouses Orv, “you lib#&%@ jackass. He does just fine,”

“Not really. Remember when the doofus child decided to launch those Tomahawk missiles into Syria? Seems like it was just last week. Like Trump, the whole exercise was a dud, kind of like this dope behind the bar. I doubt if Trump even knows what he intended to accomplish, or know where Syria is. But the lump of flesh, who I wouldn’t trust to watch grass grow, is in charge, so what are you going to do?”

“He says, we normally don’t hit the runway because they’ll just fill it in the holes. We don’t hit runways? I think we do. What the hell does Trump care, anyway? Can we inconvenience the evil Assad bastard at all? He could just as well of found a blank spot between Cooperstown and Interstate 29 and put a few dozen divots in a potato field, or whatever you guys decide to plant after the ground thaws.”

“Orv, the potato and beet farmer, perks up. “That’s extra stupid, you lib$%@# moron. We don’t need any big holes in our fields!”

“Don’t we Orv? Don’t we? It’s as flat as a pool table around here. A few more duck ponds won’t be a bad thing.”

“Yes they would!” screams Orville. “They would cost somebody a lot of money!”

“Maybe they could send the ducks the bill,” laughs Stan. “Get it, Orv? The bill?”

“Har de har har har.” mocks Orv.

“Evidently, watching the missiles shoot into the night sky was a beautiful sight. At least according to Brian Williams of MSNBC, who appears to be on some excellent mood enhancers. Yes, Brian; the pretty colors were quite groovy, man. MSLSD, dude.”

“Williams is a pinko liar,” grumbles Orv.

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem too bright. I’ll bet he knows more about Hitler than Spicey, though. Gawd!”

“I’m not going to defend that one,” growls Orv. “Quit trying to bait me into an argument.”

“Well, Cramer is defending Spicey, as if getting gassed in cramped quarters is different than breathing in some poison while walking down the street. What a maroon. Yes, they’re technically distinct, but so is comparing Kevin to a smarter lightpost. He’s your boy, Orv.”

“Shut up. I said I won’t be baited into one of your stupid conversations.”
“But that’s why I came here, Mr. Trump supporter. Pick something from the Mar-a-Lago nutcase to defend. The sexual assaults, the lies, the ignorance — should I go on? The list is a mile long. Name something, potato boy!”

“Shut your face, Stan, before I beat you with your own cane.”

“Hah,” snorts Stan. “The jokes on you, chubby dragon breath. Every part of my body already hurts, so you can swing this thing until your soft Trump arms get tired and I won’t even notice.”

“I suppose you enjoyed the pricey bottle rocket show, Orville, you portly hombre. An expensive fireworks display, which this Bashar Assad character may have observed, especially since the master tactician told them beforehand that a few dozen explosive thingys were coming, bigly. The bombs didn’t scare Russia or Iran, either.”

Orville: “You can’t allow anyone to use sarin gas on children. It’s sickening. That’s not obvious to you, lb%&@# freak?”

“Trumpdud didn’t stop anything, and the Syrians have been getting bombed and gassed for years. Trump acted like he wasn’t even aware of the former mayhem. Donnie could do some good, but it’s not in the tangerine man. Maybe he could quit lying about refugees just pouring over our border with no vetting. It’s not true, but it keeps the deep thinkers frightened.”

“We have no control over our borders at all,” yelled Orville.

“Baloney. And maybe Trump could quit lying about it being impossible to vet a Syrian citizen.”

“That’s true, you liberal yutz. How can you tell anything about these people? Orville takes a big gulp, and the bartender tops off his glass. Orv is a big tipper.

Stan explodes. “That’s a friggin lie. The Syrians keep accurate and thorough records. They’re an ancient people who figured out a few things eons before North Dakota was even given lines on a map.”

“The best thing the Trumpweasel could do, if he really cares about the children, is let them come here. Orphans and those already vetted immediately, and expedite the process for families. That goes for the Syrians and refugees from every other country.”

“Too dangerous. We should just keep bombing at a safe distance. Besides, where are we supposed to put them all?”

Stan counters. “We have nothing but space. Is anyone even using Wyoming? Economists say that an influx of new people will be good for the economy, and it will be good to see the bigots, like you, worked up. Some of you apes are still ticked off about the Irish.”

“They drink too much,” slurs Orv.

“Did you know that Kevin Cramer is Trump’s official golf ball washer, now? It’s Cabinet-level stuff.”

“Put a sock in it, Stan!”

“It’s true. Trump pops a Titleist in Cramer’s mouth, waits while he swooshes it around, and spits out a shiny dimpled orb. It’s the chemicals applied to the grass —- with a dash of lead added to his bottled water — that prevents the congressmen from picking up on the lies, and flip flops, that Trump pumps out by the pound. It’s the media’s fault for reporting everything the president says, according to the fertilizer-fed Cramer.”

“Quit lying, Stan,” yelps Orv. “And lies don’t come in pounds, you commie liberal loon!”

“Seven lies to the pound,” state’s Stan flatly. “I don’t know the metric conversion. So, when are we bombing the crap out of North Korea? Has one of Rob Port’s anonymous sources spilled any military secrets? I know you’re buds with the misleader of Minot. Did he email you any of his creative facts?”

“I don’t have any idea when North Korea gets lit up. How the hell would I know?”

“But you’re loading up on military stocks aren’t you?”

“Mind your own beeswax, you nosey SOB,” grumbles Orv.

“War is good for bidness.”



RON SCHALOW: Oley’s Naked Gun Pander

Just in case the few hombres who feel the need — some have legitimate reasons — to carry a concealed pistol underneath their cardigan while walking the street of Pisek were thinking that the Republicans in the Legislature hadn’t gone the full mile, to fulfill their every whim, they need not worry.

Minot Sen. Oley Larsen stepped up his game.

Oley is an interesting dude, among other adjectives. We’ll come back to that, but first the Senator’s Bill.

SB 2139 will change the law, so that if you’re armed and a policeman asks to to see your concealed carry permit but you left it on the dresser because it’s just too darn thick to put in your wallet and your pockets are full of green olives, you have 10 days to run home and get it.

Or you can fly to Aruba — those Dutch know how to run a colony — for a week of snorkeling, white sand beach play and deep sea fishing, then come back tan and rested and produce the permit, to avoid incarceration under the heavy boot of the state.

I don’t know if Larsen is a member of the Bastiat Caucus, the cluster of lawmakers — who really hate the government — in the Legislature, but they love this legislation. “An extremely common sense, yet important pro-Second Amendment Bill,” the Bastiat’s called it, but they idolize a Frenchman who died 15 years before Abraham Lincoln was assassinated, so they’re completely normal and should be trusted on all matters.

The Second Amendment didn’t include a permit requirement. Muskets were pushed into the hands of any male tall enough to ride the Tilt-a-Whirl, so the Constitutional remark is a pile of horse$#!*. And maybe common sense can be extreme, but I think it either is or it ain’t.

The Bastiat’s continue opining on Oley’s Bill: “Current law creates criminals out of law-abiding gun owners who are found in “violation” of an officer’s demands for paperwork. This is absurd in a free society that such demands be made regarding a God-given component of the Bill of Rights.”

I don’t recall God mentioning handguns in the Bible, but perhaps a reference can be found in the Charlton Heston Version. I think we’re working with human law here, boys.

Rep. Rick Becker founded the Bastiat Caucus so that the Libertarians, who ran as Republicans in order to win, would have someone to talk to about freedom and raw milk.

Becker also got his “Constitutional Carry” law passed, which has nothing to do with the Constitution, but it’s a fine name, and it saves several hours for those looking to pack some iron in public, which is way different than packing a seven iron — or a clothes iron. Something to keep in mind, before sticking a hot iron down your shorts.

Also understand that the senator’s bill doesn’t include fishing licenses, deer tags, driver’s licenses, proof of insurance or anything else you should have the sense to carry —  or not forget to do. Will Village Inn give you the senior discount without proof? Doubtful. Maybe if you’re carrying a Beretta.

This is only for concealed carriers. Nobody else because pistol people are obviously more important to Republicans and rarely shoot up the neighborhood in fits of rage.

All other types of credentials must be carried around in a wallet, purse, pocket, or shoe in their super heavy paper form.

You can try to be special, though

Sorry officer, I forgot my drivers license on the coffee table — it might have a little cocaine on it — but I’m armed, and I also neglected to bring my permit, so can I bring you both of those in 10 days?

I’m not over the limit, ranger. I just forgot to release that extra walleye.

Sorry occifer. I forgot not to drive, but I can get back to you in 10 days.

Oley’s Law, which doesn’t mean a senator is lost, also allows all elected officials to take training, which would grant them the right to carry a gun wherever the hell they please, including sporting events.

If you are Muslim or gay — really any minority, including liberals, to be one the safe side — don’t sit in the sightline of Rep. Dwight Kiefert at a Bison game or anywhere else. He doesn’t have mixed feelings about certain groups of people.

Oley Larsen once sent me an email complaining that I was picking on oil. Actually, I was picking on the gases, which weren’t oil, that the producers leave in the crude and make the Bakken oil trains explode. He didn’t see the distinction.

Larsen also told me that they — whoever owned the tanker cars, I guess — were going to coat the oil tankers with a substance that would keep the trains from exploding. I believe he was thinking of something along the lines of rubber. Did I mention he’s a senator and possibly is carrying a gun.

And Oley passes out Dilly Bars at election time. It doesn’t sound legal, but they are good.

I can see the old time ward boss growling, “Hey Lefty, get over here. Here’s a few walking around Dilly Bars, for youse and the boys. Hit the pier, dish out a little dilly and make sure those mooks know who to vote for. And let them know that there’s more soft-serve where that came from.”

I’ve explained the concept of plagiarism to Larsen after one of his heists, but either he didn’t comprehend the meaning, or he doesn’t care. My guess is both.

Did I mention he’s a senator?

RON SCHALOW: Cramer Loses Control Of Entrance To Fargo Office

At noon Friday, about 40 of our most dangerous citizens left their natural Caribou Coffee habitat and descended on the building that houses Congressman Kevin Cramer’s Fargo office at speeds nearing 25 mph. Their watches were not synchronized — or necessarily correct. Some were just winging it.

Mostly women, but a few men, stood as people do and occasionally flashed a pro-Planned Parenthood toward the unfortunate lost people who ended up on Feichtner Drive. We’ve all been there. Turn north at Chucky Cheese, if you care.

They were concerned about Trumpcare, which would have reduced health care services to most Americans, including women in poverty, but not to Donald Trump and Kevin Cramer. They’re both set.

Luckily, Trump and the Republican congresspeople, are inept, and the vote was canceled. It bit the dust at 3:30 EST.

Some in the ruly mob wore pink — an unoffensive shade — and a few wore those cat ear woven hats, but Cramer prefers to call them lady private parts hats, which explains a few things I don’t want to think about.

Some stood on the dormant grass, and as anyone who carped about the Cannon Ball camps knows. it will take 500 years before that patch of the lawn will recover!

“Dave’s not here.” — Tommy Chong

Amy Jacobson of Planned Parenthood and Danni Pinnick, a public health professional, walked normally — no fancy walking allowed — toward the entrance, with the intention of dropping off a petition of 800 names in support of Planned Parenthood to the congressman’s office. Just the two of them. Three large cops stopped them before they could reach the door. A scuffle did not ensue and impolite language was not exchanged.

They knew the congressman was in Washington, D.C., but wanted their voice heard on the promised deathcare vote. The bill had 17 percent support, so they knew that Cramer was unlikely to pass up the opportunity to put people’s lives in grave danger. We’ll call it a quirk.

It was the least raucous demonstration, protest or rally ever recorded and then saved on Hillary’s old server. It was on sale, OK?

Anyway, if I’m going to watch three minutes of video, there better be a bare-fist hockey fight, two dozen fluffy puppies barreling down a shiny wood floor or a goofy black bear on a hammock. Not even one racoon showed up.

Anyway, the recording was posted, and anyone could plainly see and hear that the young unthreatening ladies were turned away by policemen.

Then, as has been his habit whenever he feels a sour emotion, Congressman Cramer runs into the soft warm arms of Rob Port, his go-to media hack, to cuddle, (Port is hypoallergenic) and to complain about the people he claims to represent.

He called the video “staged” and the whole business a “stunt.”

You could hear Port nodding in agreement on his radio (cough) show. Port wrote that it was all fake news. He would know.

Did Planned Parenthood call the police station and ask for the stunt department? “Oh, yes, hi. We’re pulling a stunt on Friday — staging a demonstration. Can we rent three of your largest cops, please? Pardon me? No, we don’t need any taserings or macings. Just a regular appearance. I think it’s the No. 3 on the menu. We have a coupon.”

Or did Cramer mean that any attempt by the people to “peaceably to assemble and to petition the government for a redress of grievances” is a stunt? Who knows? He’s in the spell of the Trumpweasel, now.

From the Portweasel’s blog:

“That’s what Congressman Kevin Cramer told me today on my radio show of a Planned Parenthood protest outside his office Friday in Fargo. The protesters are now alleging that they were blocked from delivering a petition to Cramer’s staff by law enforcement, but Cramer is saying it was a “stunt.”

They WERE blocked. It’s on video. Is Port even dumber than he looks? Yes.

“First, he said nobody from Planned Parenthood called his office to make an appointment. He said a woman named Briana did call his office to inquire if it was staffed but didn’t give her full name or make an appointment to deliver the petitions.”

That’s a lie. Briana Rabenberg. North Dakota Grassroots Organizer at Planned Parenthood called and gave her full name. She didn’t call to hear heavy breathing.

And since when does anyone need an appointment to drop off an envelope? Does the post office or UPS need an invite? You can buy a frozen pizza 24/7 but don’t bother the congressman’s staff during regular business hours, even if they told you the office would be open.

“Those people had been in the building during the noon hour,” he told me (Port) adding that the “video they staged outdoors was made later.”

Lie. At least he’s learning something from his hero, Trump. “Those” people are just begging to be walled out.

From the Fargo Forum, which also employs the Port clown:

“As evidence that the video was staged, Cramer said a building owner told him that before the video was made, several of the protesters were in the building. They could have dropped off the petition then, the congressman said.”

Only one person had the envelope. Not everyone had a copy. Sheesh.

“When I (the Portweasel) asked Cramer about the police, he said “we certainly didn’t ask them to be there,” adding that it was “evidently the owner of the building.”

“He said the building owner had apparently seen media reports about the protest and informed the police that he did not want the protesters on private property. In addition to Cramer’s office the building in question houses other businesses.”

Then, Port writes a column because a radio appearance by Cramer and a blog post aren’t enough to complete the spin

“I interviewed the congressman on Monday about the situation. “(W)e certainly didn’t ask them to be there,” he said, adding that it was “evidently the owner of the building” who called the police.”

A regular citizen, who may have owned the building, or managed it, decided that he would buck a U.S. congressman and not allow two young unarmed women entry to the Congressman’s’ office.

I doubt it.

Does he, or she, ever block visitors from reaching the other tenants in the complex?

I doubt it.

Can any business call up the police and have them send over three of their finest to hold the hoard of two slight females, fierce though they be, back from a door?

I doubt it.

“Cramer said he would have had staff on hand to accept the petitions from the protesters — pretty routine stuff for members of Congress — had the they bothered to make an appointment. Instead, they showed up during the noon hour when the office was empty.”

Obviously not because they bothered. And noon is the only time many people have to visit their representative. Most people know that.

And the building manager heard about this riotous mob beforehand, but not the congressman’s staff?

I doubt it.

RON SCHALOW: The Emperor Has No Feathers

I’ve had some bad weeks. One August, I lounged on the deck of a pontoon in the sun so long that my shins and feet were seriously burned. There was smoke — and not the medicinal kind. I was in pain for at least a week, and gentle I had to be, to get the old shoes on. The hair on my shins never did grow back — smooth as a billiard ball — but I never tried to pull a fancy comb-over.

On a colder day, one of my rear tires lost hope and deflated more than a Tom Brady football. I didn’t blame it. Most of the rubber had abandoned ship long ago. This was before cell phones — at least ones smaller than an 8-pound block of sharp Cheddar cheese. So, in 50 below zero wind-chill weather, I jacked up the rear end and switched out the deceased tire with a slightly better one that still had the guts to retain air.

My thighs took the brunt. The permafrost ran Femur deep. The slow thaw didn’t feel like springtime — or any of the other seasons in Mohall, N.D.

Of course, I’m not including the deaths of loved ones, or a national tragedy. And I’ve never been to war. But then, neither has Donald Trump. I was fortunate. He was a dodger.

But even though my legs have endured 140 degree temperature swings, nothing compares to the week Donnie Trump took on the chin, starting with the giant FBI director calling him liar.

Millions of people have called the soft-brained simpleton a liar, but this one had to sting. Good old Comey. I hope he’s on our side.

I have doubts about the Trumpster. The Russians have landed on Mar-a-Lago beach, worked their way to the tennis courts and set up camp. They’re using the nets to snag bluefish, snappers and tons of plastic champagne flutes.

And the dope is worried about malnourished 36-inch refugee Syrian kids.

I worked with a Russian woman who had been in the states for four years and could speak English better than me. Not a high bar but disconcerting for several reasons.

Holy buckets. That was an, ooooh, it-had-to-hurt week. Leave-a-mark week and other cliches.

A week of going out for passes across the middle and the prolate spheroids (I had no idea) are continually getting chucked just a smidge high, while the ornery turbo charged cornerback licks his lips, waiting to separate some limbs from their sockets, bruise some innards and break multiple ribs of the receiver, front and back. Ouch. Bring out the cart. Warm up the MRI gizmo. Call next of kin. The number is glued to the fibrillation dealy.

Oh, a 15-yard penalty? That’s pretty harsh for nationally televised assault. Wipe that smile off your face and quit giggling!

David Crosby never had such as week, and most of his parts are used. Stills, Nash, and Young are still working with original equipment, as far as I know, so no need to worry. Except about their attitudes. Bad.

Dave’s pancreas is for sale on eBay, and even he couldn’t quit snickering, while the Trump University scammer sweated off his pumpkin concealer from the Katy Perry collection and his so-called waterproof Nordstroms mascara. Sad.

And, I enjoyed every minute of it, too. I don’t know where the chickens go before they come home to roost, but there were some fat Rhode Island Reds sitting on the gropers head-nest, and the sight was splendid.

Except for the hair pile — it was really distracting the poultry — and the sight always puts me into a trance, trying to figure out the structural integrity of the fuzz. There’s no load bearing head!

Gawd, I want to take hedge clippers to those, those, what are those? Side wings? Get a grown-up haircut, for crissakes.

I was thrilled for Kevin Cramer, too. He latched onto 45’s wrinkled Chrysler-sized rear end with both thin lips and never let up on the suction.

Before this current Trump gig, Cramer used to clean behind the cushions of any crusty couch in Cass County for a nominal fee — and got to keep the change. He was famous for his vacuum-related feats in Kindred, N.D. It was a nicer place after he left, according to Trump, who heard it someplace, from somebody. Maybe everyone. I can’t understand the man.

Speaking of the bootlick, our lone congressman has been bragging about voting to repeal Obamacare 793 times. He also counts a 15-minute visit on the kiss @$$ Rob Re-Port unheard of radio phenomenon as a town hall, so his perception of actual accomplishment is different than say, well, anyone who has ever had a job.

But Cramer never thought to conjure up a better health care idea in those years, and although Trump indicated that he, and only he, had a great plan, he didn’t. It was just his latest con, and Kevin knew it. Cramer would have voted for the most depraved moronic bill, for a pat on the head from DT.

“We’re going to have insurance for everybody. There was a philosophy in some circles that if you can’t pay for it, you don’t get it. That’s not going to happen with us.” — Dirty Old Man

That was lie.

When he lies, his apologists, like Cramer, say that Trump isn’t politician, as if being a politician wrings the truth from the memory-collecting gland before shooting the words out of the face hole.

Becoming a politician since he was 8 didn’t help Cramer with truthfulness. Maybe one needs a sense of morality. And the congressman is still afraid of girls, calling in the troops to keep 18 platoons of women from delivering a petition to his Fargo office, and they weren’t even wearing white — or checkered — pantsuits.

In the middle of the health care fiasco, Rob Port, the Forum Communication blogger in their factually challenged department, wrote that Trump was being the grown-up in the room, because 45 demanded a vote, thus moving the ball down the field.

It’s not the dumbest thing Port has ever scribbled, but it just proved that the “Mouth of Minot” had no clue about the bill Trump wanted passed. If Don negotiated the building of Trump Tower in the same fashion, the skyscraper would be hollow. Echo city. Melania-free.

The grown up said:

“I was the first and only potential GOP candidate to state there will be no cuts to Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid.”

“I am going to take care of everybody. … Everybody’s going to be taken care of much better than they’re taken care of now.”

Both statements were lies, and he wanted Congress to drink a tall glass of warm swill. It’s doubtful that the president even knew how little was left of formally bad legislation because he is a child with an attention span that makes George Bush look like Thomas Jefferson.

Oh, and Paul Ryan doesn’t know how insurance works, so that was good to find out.

After two courts shut down his ban of Muslims and this failure, the good guys are up 3-0 in the bottom of the first. Trumps is just producing divots in Florida, so he has bigly problems.

RON SCHALOW: Port Fiction

Ruth Buffalo wrote a perfectly sane, accurate and compelling letter-to-the-editor a few days ago, but the truthfulness was more than the Ward County Red Snouted Port could bear. Sad.

I have never met Ruth Buffalo, but I know she is very smart because I can read and comprehend. And educated. She is also quite pretty and has a beautiful family. And I’m betting that her hair smells like lilacs.

Forum Communications Rob Port, the antidote to proper newspapering, is a liar and probably a poor bowler. I think my microwave told me that while the corned beef hash was spinning in the window like an AC/DC LP. Look it up.

Port calls the people who studied journalism, other college knowledge stuff and grasp the difference between a noun and a duckbill platypus his colleagues. I worked at Microsoft for a spell. Bill Gates wasn’t my colleague. Doug Burgum wasn’t my colleague. Most in the adjoining cells just called me, “Would you please just shut up. I’m begging you.”

I still don’t know how to do a pivot table with Excel, if that’s still a thing, but I know that loud cursing is part of the process. I took my leave before the storm troopers — or they could have just been guys with an ungodly number of keys — would bring the plastic personal belonging tub and follow along on the perp walk to the door, lest a paunchy 50-year-old — that’s the sell by date — load up on medium tip Sharpies and make a fortune on the black marker market.

I’ll get back to the liar, but that’s how Microsoft and Great Plains Software handled North Dakota people, some who put in 20, 25 years, building the business — real professionals— just to make the books look better to a buyer or to hire punks, like business casual khaki covered Ports who would work for the half the price. Not respectful. Not the family we were told. The governor knows all about this. Port thinks he likes him. To play the brat. Yes.

But I digress, as the Portweasel says regularly. Because you can’t go wrong with a cliche or the word of the day. Just use flip calendar for the date, or burn it, for crissakes. That’s it.

Nobody is allowed to talk negatively about Port’s oil friends, who use him like a player piano. That includes special pal, Congressman Kevin Cramer. Kev may as well make it official and sign on with the North Dakota Petroleum Council. It no doubt pays better.

Here’s Port’s beef with Ruth Buffalo and how his sorrowful brain decides to neutralize the truth. His headline, which may — or may not — have been promoted by the shameless InForum, the Grand Forks Herald and the Dickinson Press on their webpages.

“Democrat Who Got 26 Percent of the Vote Now Telling Us What North Dakotans Want on Flaring Rule”

Pieces are true, but put the words together, and you have another flaming pile of falsehood. Fake news. Port’s stock-in-trade. Who reads past a Port headline? BillyBob666 and a few others in the alt-right fecal fouled nest, I guess.

Then he writes, Blah, blah, blah, “letters to the editor are usually an exercise in Astroturf, on both sides of the issue, which means they usually aren’t worth commenting on.”

“But I had to say something about this letter from Ruth Buffalo who ran for Insurance commissioner on the Democratic ticket last year,” Port babbled on.

He just had to, but normally he would be too busy fretting about nature. But for this, he would break his rigid protocol and do the dance — for the children.

If Port were truthful, and he isn’t, he would admit that he slurs every person who has had the good sense, and a functional keyboard, to call him out on his unique type of logic slurry, or talks trash about about any of the industries and politicians Robbie shills for.

Compared to Port, Donald Trump has the thick exterior of a dressage dancing Aldabra giant tortoise. #Snowflake

Port continues to type nonsense. There has to be a software program to help someone like the witless wonder. Or the ability to use the Google.

Ruth: “North Dakotans support cutting natural gas waste,” reads the headline over Buffalo’s letter.

Ruth: “I was disheartened to hear that my elected representative, Rep. Kevin Cramer, is so determined to repeal the common-sense protections that will help North Dakotans and members of the Three Affiliated Tribes from natural gas waste,” she writes.

Port: “There are a couple of points worth making here.”

Port: “First, Ruth Buffalo received just 26 percent of the vote last year. Her opponent, Republican Jon Godfread, received 64 percent. Yet Buffalo is now an expert on what North Dakotans want.”

First of all, nobody, not anyone, needs more than zero percent in any election to voice their opinion. You don’t even need to run in an election, or in a marathon, or run the water, to shoot your mouth off in this country.

Ask Port. He might be able to run 10 feet, but no one knows. He’s rarely seen in the wild. An armadillo could outrun the most influential political blogger in state, as Port claims, if you startled the armored little beast. I heard that from one of Obama’s hacker and wiretapping pals, I think.

Also, Buffalo never claimed to be an expert, although maybe she is. Port just made that up. He’s been making crap up about people for years, doing little smear jobs, but the weasel really likes to set his sights on strong women, and Natives.

Oh well, let lumpy keep talking.

“C’mon. North Dakotans have made it pretty clear in one election after another that they aren’t buying what liberal Democrats like Buffalo are selling. Which isn’t to say she can’t keep trying to sell us her bill of goods. Just that she maybe shouldn’t say she’s talking for some majority of citizens in the state,” drools Port. It’s not pretty. Is that gravy?

We’ve already sorted out this election thing — it’s not relevant — and Democrats, liberal or otherwise, weren’t in Buffalo’s letter. She never claimed to speak for the Democratic Party, and she never said she was speaking for the majority of North Dakotans. The polling does, though.

Port came up with that bull$#!* in his “Gibberish for Idiots” book. This is where college might have helped the lad, but he couldn’t hack it. Not my fault. Sad.

Ruth Buffalo didn’t personally claim anything. Her statement: “A full 76 percent of North Dakotans support cutting natural gas waste on federal and tribal lands, including Republicans, Independents and Democrats,” originated from a poll taken by the Republican Public Opinion Strategies.

She told the absolute truth. I figured that out in about five minutes, but I’m just a dumb old lib$%#@ with a bad attitude and an Internet connection.

So, Port tells a lie by omitting pertinent information, all in order to slur Ruth Buffalo. Childlike. Shameless. Dishonest.

Port tightens the knot around his neck. “Second, Buffalo invokes the interests of the Three Affiliated Tribes, of which she is a member. Problem is, the tribe’s leadership supports overturning this rule.”

No she did not.

Unless Port is inferring that as a Native, Buffalo has to agree with every other Native American, or that she is required to agree with the leaders of her Tribe. She doesn’t and isn’t. And more than the hamhock from Minot is required to agree with the leaders of us white people.

“Buffalo presumes to speak for North Dakotans, and for the MHA Nation, when she really has no standing to speak for either.”

No, she did not.

Ruth said, “North Dakota’s energy resources are important for us to be able to provide for our people, but right now because of outdated and ineffective guidelines, too much of our natural gas is wasted. This waste means less tax revenue for tribes, affecting our bottom line.”

Is Port in favor of waste? Less tax revenue? He doesn’t care. He’s a poor excuse of a mouthpiece for big oil, being a liar and all. Maybe somebody else is up for the challenge? I’m sure another @$$hole could cover a few shifts. Maybe Trump has some time on his tiny hands between rounds of golf and Twittering insults.

“When methane, the primary component of natural gas, is released, so are toxics such as benzene, threatening the health of those living closest to oil and gas well sites. And for people that are struggling to make ends meet, the last thing we should have to worry about is the air we breathe,” continues Buffalo.

That is a true statement. I like a good sniff of benzene in the morning, but it’s not for everyone. Straight methane? I’m in heaven. Perhaps. It’s a tough call.

Buffalo: “I was disheartened to hear that my elected representative, Rep. Kevin Cramer, is so determined to repeal the common-sense protections that will help North Dakotans and members of the Three Affiliated Tribes from natural gas waste.”

I’m disheartened by most things that come out of Cramer’s mouth. Nauseous, really. Has anyone sucked up to a lunatic like 45, so openly since a moron said, “Sure, I’ll be Tyler, too. What’s a Tippecanoe?” He was no friend of the Natives, either, and also had a fear of white garments.

“The oil and gas industry is determined to override the will of the American people. A full 76 percent of North Dakotans support cutting natural gas waste on federal and tribal lands, including Republicans, Independents and Democrats.”

This is true. Backed up by a Republican polling firm, as I noted. Why does Port forget to report, or whatever you call what he does, these statistics. His “colleagues” would have. That’s what he might have heard on the talking painting in the bedroom.

Buffalo again. “We (speaking for the 76 percent) hope that Sens. Heidi Heitkamp and John Hoeven do not make the same mistake. We urge them to help the people of North Dakota get a fair share of their resources and not put the health of our state ahead of the oil and gas lobby.”

Good luck with that, but we can hope. The Legislature will probably give Harold Hamm the $12 we have left.

“The industry wants to be able to do whatever they want, whenever they want, even if it hurts us. We need oil and gas development to be done responsibly,” writes Buffalo.

It’s true. The oil industry has run roughshod over this state, and the sycophants, including Port, just wave at them. He once wrote that it shouldn’t matter where the exploding trains came from. Doofus. Like we don’t want to know where the rancid meat originated so we can fix the problem. Actually, no Republican in a North Dakota office wanted to fix the problem.

Port rationalized the enormous number of worker deaths in the Bakken. He rationalized every type of spill. Put him in a cheerleader outfit, already. Ugh.

Of course, our congressman, with a straight face, said that it was discrimination to call Bakken crude, Bakken crude. He was worried that people might find out who had the most explosive gases in their tankers of crude. He didn’t say what we should call it, though. Short attention span.

Port and Cramer. Cut from the same white cloth.

Buffalo wraps up her letter. “Our senators should stand up for North Dakotans to ensure that we see the return on our resources and improved quality of life.”

Shouldn’t they? I thought that was the idea of this whole Republic thing, but then you have those screaming howler monkeys who will lie to advance the wishes of the most profitable industry the world has ever seen.

Port is a liar.

RON SCHALOW: The Congressman Wears Prada

Donald Trump was standing at the podium, addressing a joint session of Congress, explaining to the American people how badly the State of the Union sucked, and they best hide. Stupid Kenyan!

He gazed to the right when some of the Democrats laughed after a sentence because the words were so absurd, based on reality, it was impossible to muffle the giggling. You had to be there. Of course, Trump has no sense of humor, or self- awareness, so he was baffled. Then, he noticed a bloc dressed in white, his favorite color, and it wasn’t the KKK this time.

Sitting on the other side of the great hall, Republican Congressman Kevin Cramer fumed. Nobody chortles when the Trump is speaking. Then and there, the court smirker went into deep thought, comparable to a Vulcan mind meld, but for one, which nearly brought on an aneurism and annoyed the light sleepers nearby. He needed a plan to avenge what he regarded as an unforgivable affront to his king.

A convoluted Bible verse wouldn’t work this time. Those Cramer misinterpretations are reserved for hungry children who don’t have jobs.

It seems like just last week when the congressman was lying on WDAY-AM about Indivisible-FM and the people who attended an open to the public “Coffee with Cramer” town hall — with Rob “squeaky” Port, his soul mate. One day, they hope to cut a rug together on “Dancing with the Stars,” if proper fitting sequined leotards exist.

Port gets livid when his pal has to deal with the riff-raff; folks who have questions, like what will replace the Affordable Care Act — just life and death minutiae — and his buddy has no clue. Are people expecting Congress to govern? Provide solutions? This is madness.

For those who don’t know, Forum Communication blogger Rob Port was born in Wasilla, Alaska, the town made famous by Sarah Palin. Evidently, the woman who made most Americans think that John McCain had gone senile used to baby-sit for the cherubic Port and told him stories of the socialistic Alaskan habit of sharing oil wealth with — gasp — the people. Robbie was appalled and threw his Gerber deep-dish squash and bacon mush at Palin, but the beauty queen had already quit and split. Food gone bye-bye.

Rumor has it, little Port could also see into the neighbor’s fridge from his portable kid jail in the living room, which was creepy for the folks next door, especially since they didn’t have a kitchen window, leading to the first restraining order for a toddler in Wasilla.

Currently, the scamp spends his free time tracking the amount of garbage leaving the Oceti camp. Not that he’s been there, but Port recently discovered that if one of those skinny one-person buildings is knocked over, there is a deep hole dug into the earth, with human waste at the bottom. It was shocking.

Do American Indians also have gastrointestinal tracts, like the Caucasians? Yes, it turns out. They also fill the hole with dirt, when it’s purpose is accomplished, just like millions of white folks with functional bowels did for centuries. We used to call them outhouses, but the youngster considers them some sort of environmental scandal. Kids.

When not counting latrines, Port runs interference for Cramer, as I’ve noted. He wrote two slanderous blog posts about Indivisible-FM because discrediting the chosen enemy is how he operates. His second post was titled, “Group Which Hosted Feisty Cramer Town Hall in Fargo Caught Stage Managing Event in Another State,” which had no relationship with the truth, since the story was about an entirely different group in Louisiana. No matter.

Port knows that the average visitor to his site spends less than a minute before realizing they meant to go to Amazon. But should they read a false headline, without dipping into the literary treasure that masquerades as content, it’s all they know. It’s fake news on a stick for those on the run.

Then, our still simmering congressman unleashes his plan, to teach those pantsuited women, who wounded the Homo habilis part of his brain, some sort of fashion lesson. Of course, people who have heard of — or seen — an outhouse, would know that Homo habilis went extinct several million years ago. Or did they? If a few strands of DNA snuck by the goalie, it would explain the density of the oblongata muscle, where the sense glands are normally located, in this particular Cramer.

So, unhindered by a mouth filter, Cramer, playing the protective Pomeranian in this embarrassing episode, goes on CNN after flapping his gums elsewhere. He said the women “were really there to be rude to Donald Trump. That was obvious, not just, not by their clothes, but in addition to their clothing, their gestures, their hand gestures, their thumbs down, their quick exit from the gallery ahead of the president. Their behavior in general.”

This is the same congressman who shouted an orgasmic “YES,” when the president mentioned the Dakota Access pipeline. And 14 old men reflexively said, “I’ll have what he’s having.” Dignity is relative.

This line is getting old, though. After the town hall in Fargo, a sobbing Cramer ran to Rob “wind beneath Kev’s wings” Port to explain what Indivisible-FM was really there for, an evil motive he made up. And Port ate it up, like a deep-dish rhubarb pie.

The women wore white for crazy reasons. In memory of the suffrage movement, affordable health care, reproductive rights, equal pay, paid leave and as an acknowledgement to the start of Women’s History Month. Have they no shame?

Akin to a “disease,” Cramer said, “It is a syndrome. There is no question, there is a disease associated with the notion that a bunch of women would wear bad-looking white pantsuits in solidarity with Hillary Clinton — he made that up — to celebrate her loss. You cannot get that weird.” Plus, “they looked silly.” I had no idea.

“I don’t buy their argument that it was a celebration of suffrage. I think they should be celebrating the fact that there were women members of Congress sitting in a joint session, listening to the president of the United States on equal footing as a co-equal branch — and sort of get over this notion that somehow we have to be offended all the time.”

Oh, lucky females. They get to be in the same room with the boys. And it seems as though Cramer is one who is offended.

“I call it a syndrome, or this sort of denial of the outcome of the election,” he said. “It was just a really ugly display … of denial. It’s time for Hillary’s supporters to get over the outcome of the election.”

“To put it on display like that at a joint session of Congress is undignified to say the least,” Cramer said. “It violates the common decency of the chamber.”

I think a fake fire and brimstone preacher calling any number of female senators and congresswomen liars violates the decency of his office, and perhaps laws regarding slander.

Trump doesn’t add to the decency of any office, event or space, but that cognitive dissonance only hurts Kevin’s right toe, just before a winter thunderstorm.

“We don’t need our sensitivity to get in the way of even robust dialogue.”

Then quit being so sensitive about what the other kids are wearing, Kev.

“As I tell people, I come from normalville,” Cramer said.

No. No, you don’t. You are not a normal person. Quit saying that.

Was Cramer freaked out by the number of males wearing dark blue or dark black pantsuits, with a blue or red tie? What’s the message? It can’t be coincidence.

Did it bother him that Vice President Mike Pence and Speaker of the House Paul Ryan were wearing identical pantsuits, matching jewelry, or that Pence appears to apply white shoe polish to a possibly smooth gourd? It should. Twins shouldn’t be mocked by the No. 2 and No. 3 in our government. Things are frightening enough.

And, how about the Rubik’s Cube of fuzz, fur, lint, who knows, and adhesives, that sit on the presidential dome? Isn’t it a distraction trying to figure out how many structural engineers are on call and ordered to wind that abnormal web into something resembling the hairline of the Tianzhu White Yak? It keeps me up.

So, Port rolls out the cannons before Cramer continues his yammering on CNN. Here’s the headline. Too pithy?

“Kevin Cramer Insulted a Bunch of Democratic Women Over What They Were Wearing And, Honestly, Who Cares?”

Evidently, Cramer cares, because he won’t shut up about it. Everyone else just thinks he’s a joke. Honestly.

Port starts with this. “But by the way, did you notice how poorly several of them were dressed as well?” Congressman Kevin Cramer asked, rhetorically …”

Either Port doesn’t know what rhetoric means, which wouldn’t be a surprise, or he’s trying to change the narrative. No. 2 is my guess. The congressman offered his opinion, in plain language, however foolish.

“He was referring to a group of female Democrats who wore white as an attempt to “troll” President Donald Trump during his speech last night,” Port continued.

This is one of Port’s favorite tactics. He assigns a negative motive, no matter the facts, to his target, then builds a blog post around the falsehood.

The blogger goes on: “I wish Cramer hadn’t made those remarks. They come off as petty and mean-spirited and completely out of character.”

Cramer is petty and mean-spirited. That Port hasn’t noticed is a testament to his less than mediocre talent as a political pundit and his allegiance to his buddy, which ain’t for nothing.

“While North Dakota’s at-large congressman has a black belt in political pugilism, he’s not typically prone to personal insults.”

I include this Port quote because I find it funny. Pugilism? I wish.

Rob’s on a roll. “Cramer said something mean about a group of women who were trying to imply something mean about President Trump. That he doesn’t support women’s rights or something.”

Somebody wake up the expert on everything. Breitbart dude is running the country, and those types, including Port, believe that white men are suffering because of woman and everyone else. Victimhood much?

“The color white is a reference to the suffragette movement. Are we supposed to believe that Trump is going to remove from women the right to vote?”

False premise. Red herring. Green mackerel. Nobody suggested such a thing. If Trump wears a Navy jacket and cap, are we supposed to believe he has the courage to join up?

He’s on fire now. “Are we supposed to believe the millions and millions of women who cast their ballots for Trump were voting against their own rights?”


One of Port’s favorite rhetorical devices. “Are Democrats the only arbiters of what is and is not the right sort of public policy for women?”

Who said that, and what does it have to do with the topic? Nobody and nothing.

“And if we can’t mock a bunch of grandstanding politicians, who can we mock?”

If we can’t mock a grandstanding Kevin Cramer, who can we mock? Louie Gohmert, I suppose. Or Steve King. All three are card-carrying members of the Bellevue Caucus. Even the right-wing fringe considers them kooks.

“Petty political insults are one thing, but this weaponized victimhood Democrats deploy as a distraction from substantive policy debates is even more obnoxious,” whines Port.

I feel his pain. Having an imaginary talking point can he hard. Cramer willingly supplied this distraction, though. All the was missing were the big floppy shoes, red rubber nose and Trump hair.

Poor Rob. “The people who carry on as though everyone who dissents from liberal orthodoxy is a backward, misogynistic bigot have little moral high ground to get up in arms over a congressman saying something juvenile about clothing.”

More self-pity, but if he ever read his own cesspool of a comment section, sometimes the pantsuit fits.

What Port thought of Trump, and his fans, before the election.

  • “Trump knows exactly how dumb his supporters are and has manipulated their ignorance to great effect.”
  • “Trump seems content to pander to actual paranoid racists.”
  • “I do not think Trump should win the presidency, however. He’s an embarrassment. He is not fit to lead our country.”

A Short List of the Things That Kevin Cramer Can Abide

  • Adultery.
  • Sexual assault.
  • Redlining.
  • Fake universities — scams.
  • Compulsive lying.
  • Tax-dodging.
  • Draft-dodging.
  • Tenant intimidation.
  • Hiring undocumented workers.
  • Antitrust violations.
  • Condo hotel shenanigans.
  • Inciting violence.
  • Mocking a disabled man.
  • Refusing to pay workers and contractors.
  • Trump Institute.
  • Misogyny.
  • Xenophobia.
  • Undocumented models
  • The Trump Foundation
  • Russia.

And on and on, over the horizon …

RON SCHALOW: Cramer vs. Cramer

Congressman Kevin Cramer, rumored to be Donald Trump’s new hairdresser —Have you seen 45’s new flattop? He sets his Twitter phone up there — came to Fargo on Thursday, at the invitation of Indivisible FM — leftist lost souls, according to Scott Hennen, the legendary mellifluous voice of the guy you hear for a second while fiddling with your radio dial.

Leftist Lost Souls isn’t the name of a band, either, so Hennen wasn’t being complimentary — or coherent.

Fargo Forum official anti-Native blogger Rob Port acted like the congressman had ventured into Fallujah without a helmet or flak vest: “Not surprisingly, since Cramer has a sterling reputation when it comes to a willingness to engage with the public, he obliged them by scheduling a town hall right smack dab in Fargo, one of the most liberal areas of the state.”

Fargo is infested with liberals, that’s true — we even thought Doug Burgum knew the secret handshake — and Port once read a Breitbart article about a liberal who broke a window, so you can see his concern. Alex Jones claimed it was a false flag, though.

But North Dakota has just the one congressman, so Fargo is on Cramer’s beat. I think he knew that going in. We all realize that he would rather be rubbing 45’s feet, after carrying the big man’s solid gold clubs, an almost Cabinet position, and looking for errant golf balls in 6-foot grass — with the gators — for four hours. Or sitting in the shade of a pumpjack and enjoying the cool breeze of toxic odors.

That’s what happened to Sen. Oley Larsen, but no one noticed until he started babbling about pot cards.

We had two congressmen in North Dakota, until 1973, when the population of the state was only 633,000. There are a 100,000 more people now, for some reason, so I think it’s about time to elect a second one. Not at-large, though. We Marxist commie socialist lib%&*# cucks in the east want a representative.

Anyway, the congressman came to hold a “Coffee with Cramer” townhall at the Beans Coffee Bar on the left side of town. Coffee shops are notorious progressive hangouts, but the whole shootin’ match was open to the public. It started about 1 p.m. with a Cramer-led prayer for the law enforcement officers charged with evicting the remaining water protectors from the Oceti camp.

Luckily, he didn’t also pray for the Natives given the boot, or Hennen the holy and Port the pompous would have had a royal fit. They’ve spent many months denigrating the Natives, reiterating each word in the propaganda newsletters put out by front groups of the oil industry. A few words were added, such as evil, by Pope Scott. It’s a shameless business, and the duo fit the bill — and then some.

Then, Cramer started filibustering, even before a question was asked by the standing-room-only crowd, knowing that he just had to make it an hour with icky progressives so close. People got restless because they wanted answers. Port described it as shrieking. As usual, he was lying. Has he listened to his voice on the radio? It’s not a mellow bass, Howler monkey boy.

Cramer called the ACA Obamacare, and most didn’t care to hear the health care law described that way. So, paraphrasing the smirking Cramer, all of the Obamacare supporters in North Dakota are in one room at one time.

He was really trying to endear himself to the majority in room, some who didn’t even get a check from George Soros, as is the usual arrangement, as some deluded idiots like Rep. Randy Boehning, of West Fargo think. He gets his checks from the state — and probably free coffee.

In less than hour, the people asked about health care, since the Affordable Care Act is being abolished, and no one seems to know what, if anything, is going to replace it. Cramer didn’t know, so he reflexively transitioned to the venerable “baffling them with bull$#!*” technique, which annoyed a few, but the congressman is a stickler for inconsistency, so he boldly forged ahead.

And the concerns of Muslims, the LBGT were voiced, considering the hostile actions of the president, the lunatic narcissist who Cramer endorsed right out of the gate. I don’t think anybody feels any safer.

Betsy Devos, Trump’s connection to Russia, health care tax credits, ISIS, abortion, Viagra, women paying more for health care, regulations, school choice, community and home health care, food stamps, corporate tax cuts, Social Security, Medicaid, Medicare, block grants, autism and Planned Parenthood were discussed, plus how Trump plans to pay for all he has promised?

The star of the show couldn’t resist a little agitating. Paraphrasing Cramer digs, and red herrings, to purposely wind people up.

  • He suggests that the veterans who went to the Oceti camp, have mental issues
  • The vulnerable? What about the unborn child?
  • I’m just not allowing taxpayers to fund your abortions.
  • We have a bunch of people who have coverage but not care.
  • He lies about the crowd shouting down a woman with a sick child.

And when he dodged, lied, stalled or talked gibberish, he received the requisite amount negative volume — and the number of topics broached in a short time frame — plus the time Cramer spent poking a stick into lib&*$# eyeballs, to amuse himself, puts a lie to Port’s, “It was performance art masquerading as civic involvement. A sort of kabuki theater organized by professional activists and staged for the cameras.”

Hennen also lies: “They didn’t want answers.”

The pair nearly had the vapors. Did they forget that we live in the United States? Nobody whispers. Have they ever watched a session of the English Parliament? Are they unfamiliar with our history of bare knuckles politics? Did they notice that this event was nothing close to the rowdiness shown at other townhalls throughout the country, where people were also rightfully upset? None of that matters to these two operatives. It’s not PC to question their pal, with the slightest amount of aggressiveness.

Port goes full Trump the next day. Everything is fake.

Lie: “The local iteration of Indivisible — a national left-wing group created to harrass (sp) Republican members of Congress in their states/districts …”

That’s not why it was created, and Port should feel bad for making up something so stupid.

Lie: “And, not surprisingly, the local progressives showed in en masse to express their hatred for Cramer and President Donald Trump, whose candidacy Cramer was an early supporter of.”

En masse doesn’t fit in a coffee shop, and the event was open to the public, so Cramer had his fans. Too bad the right isn’t too good with the time thing. Hatred? More like pity.

Port conveniently forgets that he was part of the obviously failed #NeverTrump movement, and the words he used to describe Trump and his followers surpassed anything that was uttered at Beans. His memory has many optional components.

Correct: “… it’s not terribly enlightening.”

True. Cramer rarely answers a question.

Lie: “I don’t begrudge the progressives their scream therapy.”

No scream therapy. Just engaged citizens.

False premise: “Who does a screeching sort of hatred, aimed publicly at a member of Congress, really persuade?”

No screechingor hatred, bud.

Extra good sucking up by Hennen: “But Congressman Kevin Cramer is both unafraid and patient beyond measure. He stood tall. They looked really small.”

Everyone was of regulation size.

Game Theory

Then, we find out, it was just a game to the Congressman.

“Part of their scheme is to get congressmen not to show up,” he (Cramer) said, “then they can use that as a talking point” or a “YouTube moment.”

“They wanted a You Tube moment.” — Scott Hennen.

“The holy grail is to goad the politician being targeted into saying or doing something stupid which can be fed into the left’s outrage machine.” — Rambling Rob Port

The reason for Cramer’s visit was for the Congressman to teach these uppity Indivisible people some perverse lesson, not to listen in good faith to the real and sincere concerns of his constituents.

Cramer said he showed up and “exposed them for what they are.”

“I didn’t think they’d fall for it so easily,” he added.

I don’t even know what “exposed them for what they are” means, but it could be that he’s so used to the loving embrace of shills like Port and Hennen, that if a gluttonous mass of adoration isn’t shown to his divine presence, it’s a sin.

Or, unwittingly, as is his custom, Cramer may have exposed something his cruel ideology doesn’t recognize, that we leftists call empathy, soul, or heart.

If Congressman Cramer doesn’t think that he need represent all of the people in North Dakota, and he can waste the time of certain people, for the fun of it, he’s more reprehensible that I already thought.

Malleable should be Kevin’s middle name. He whines about an hour with the unwashed masses, while Port holds his hand, but the pious one regularly excuses an admitted sexual assaulter, an adulterer, a prolific liar, a con artist, a draft dodger, a bill dodger, a tax dodger, a racist, a xenophobe, an Islamophobe, a homophobe and totally repugnant human being. He used to walk into the dressing rooms of young girls and stroll around, for Pete’s sake!

Read up on this Steve Bannon dude, boys. This Breitbart psycho sits at the right hand of DT, and has plans to burn this government down. Wildlife is nice, but what has a snowy owl done for us lately? That’s the gist of it.

The so-called, self proclaimed devout Hennen has the same chameleon ability. And Port finds himself at odds with his base of anonymous cretins, if he speaks ill of old fluffy top, so he avoids the topic, or maybe he has actually been baptized with Trump brand bottled water to fit in with his buddies. Tap water works as well.

All three think an unarmed Native American is more dangerous than a Bakken oil train carrying crude imbued with enough explosive gases (a fixable problem) to nearly guarantee a few towering fireballs every time one leaves the tracks. Over a dozen times, so far, including 47 dead in Lac-Megantic, Quebec. But a Native kid threw a rock, once. Oil barons have money.

As Port writes in every blog, because he is a dullard, “this speaks volumes” about something or other, Well, “this speaks volumes” about these three clowns.

RON SCHALOW: All Vegetables Matter

I’ve lost several minutes of sleep over the past few weeks, and I’m sure that others were also on edge. The freedom of something was on line. Our food, it turns out, to my surprise.

I looked in the fridge. Everything was fine there, but then I learned that criminality was taking place in all corners of state, but nobody knew it, except maybe the freedom-stomping government.

Thankfully, the North Dakota Food Freedom Act, or HB 1433 for those who prefer the numerals for gambling purposes, or so I’ve heard from the Swedes, was passed by the House on Wednesday.

I believe there was an argument of sorts on the floor to spice up the video or wake up some of the hungover members. Maybe both. Anyway, it passed, and I think our liberty of our food is in the clear.

I wasn’t nearly as excited as the folks who run the aptly named “North Dakota Food Freedom Act” Facebook page, though. I’ve never been this jubilant.


“A big victory for Liberty!”

(Photo of the vote count board)


North Dakota Food Freedom Act, HB 1433, just passed the State House! 69-20

We send our sincerest appreciation to Reps. Luke Simons, Aaron McWilliams, Bill Oliver, Kathy Skroch, Dan Ruby, Rick Becker, Mike Schatz and Chris Olson for their courage and articulation on the House Floor.”

End Quote

Wow! And I thought everything was more thrilling. Liberty! The list looks full of the inglorious Bastiats. The Bastiat Caucus, to be precise. They love freedom more than you and have the courage to tackle imaginary issues.

On Tuesday.



Friends, tomorrow morning, shortly after 9 a.m., the House will vote on the amended North Dakota Food Freedom Act, HB 1433. This legislation will reduce government intervention against selling the safe, delicious farm fresh or homemade products that thousands of families consume every day. NOW IS THE TIME TO ACT.”

Here is where they start to lose me, more than my usual lost. Not to be picky, but A) You can’t reduce government intervention to less than zero. That’s where the food police draw the line. Total disinterest. B) I’ll decide what is delicious.

I couldn’t figure out the purpose of this bill right off, but then it became apparent that all of the carrots, potatoes and other delicious vegetables were a front to get raw milk legalized. That didn’t bother me. My assistant handles all milk-related issues. But the raw milk bothered someone who hates liberty, and the bill got watered down. Also, pasteurized and homogenized, which really got their goat, a critter that never gets any respect. The response:

“The House will vote THIS WEEK on the historic North Dakota Food Freedom Act, HB 1433. We cannot stress enough the importance of this legislation. This bill legalizes farm fresh and homemade products — including healthy, raw refrigerated foods — for direct to consumer sales.

Despite our concession to remove raw milk from the bill, it’s still extremely strong and sets a tremendous precedent. Because of this, it could be a huge BATTLE on the House floor to get it passed.

We fully expect the nanny-state bureaucrats to flood the desks and emails of House members with propaganda of some absurd, nonexistent epidemic of people getting sick from the foods they prepare and eat in their homes.

Remember this bill, as amended, clarified concerns about liability issues and establishes clear and full compliance with USDA meat inspection. It does nothing to affect existing food safety regulations or in any way impact commercial food production standards. It will diversify the economy and support more local foods from right here in North Dakota!

HB 1433 will foster economic growth for our small rural and urban food producers.

We absolutely must stand strong and protect our liberties and fundamental rights as consumers. This will be a big win for willing buyers and sellers who have delicious and safe products they wish to sell or exchange without government intervention.”

End Quote

Curious, and a little frightened by the “absurd, nonexistent epidemic of people getting sick, and the forthcoming huge BATTLE, I got a couple of questions in before the zucchini nanny apocalypse.

Ron Schalow “What can a farmer not sell at a stand, or a farmers market, currently?”

North Dakota Food Freedom Act “There are many foods, but it also depends on the health district. Part of what this bill does is codify uniform “cottage” type standards across the state. There’s a lot of foods, for example chicken noodle soup. You can sell the chicken, you can sell the carrots, and you can sell the noodles. But if you put them together, you can be a criminal. We want to change that. Plus, it’s not just about “farmers.” It includes our small urban food producers as well.”

Ron Schalow “Has anyone ever been arrested for selling chicken noodle soup.”

North Dakota Food Freedom Act “Not that we’re aware of. But current law does make them a criminal. This law fixes that.”

Chicken noodle soup, eh. I don’t care for cooked carrots, so I’ll stick to the Campbell’s. It tastes the same as it did a half-century ago. Maybe they just made one big batch in 1952, just in case the Cold War got extra warm and the bomb shelters needed stocking. All they had were those superstale crackers. I’ve tasted one. Terrible.

In the 1960s, customers got a free snub-nosed pistol with every case purchased. Ammo was nearly nonexistent, though, so most of the unusual prizes were used as paperweights and doorstops.

Nevertheless, let’s get everything that never was a problem “codified” because the prospect of becoming a criminal, while mountain climbing in Casselton, which is not currently frowned upon in the books, could become an issue.

I think we all can agree that the tectonic plates could shift at any point, and suddenly, the nice little town has Nepalese sherpas cutting trails to the top of Trump Mountain for rich, bored people. And Scheels is infested with healthy-looking types, with red faces, buying harnesses, carabiners (which are not allowed in church for various reasons), crampons and lots of varieties of rope. It would be unnatural and unsettling for old valley folks.

There should also be a law allowing drivers to bust through a herd of protesting melons, of any variety, that clog the road, along with any mask-wearing squash. You can do it now, but it should be “codified,” since a lot of people are reticent about killing food with their Michelins. It can get messy, but nobody has needed to hit the gas and aim yet, since melons are yet to be sentient or mobile. But can we take the risk?

Back in the olden days, when I was in the bar business, we bought horseradish or horseradish sauce. Whatever the proper name, this guy made it at home, or under a bridge for all I know, spooned it into Mason jars, and brought it in. He got paid, and we put it in our Bloody Mary mix, which really added a kick. I think it killed one guy who took a slug of it straight. That’s what I heard from Trump, anyway. He saw it somewhere. I know it could take varnish off of oak bar tops.

We also had free chili for our customers Saturdays. I can’t count the number of places our chili got cooked before getting ladled into 5-gallon pickle buckets, driven to the bar and poured into a big-assed roaster oven. Not one citation, arrest or death.

And as long as the Legislature is handing out proclamations, one to the doofus in the White House who probably didn’t know what he was signing, the Red River Valley red should be declared the best potato for baking.

Screw you Idaho — and your dry spuds. That goes for you, too, Eastern Washington!