RON SCHALOW: Cramer Mimics Trump — Lies Like a Pro

It’s been quite an effing darn protracted loopy eon since “quick-draw” Kevin Cramer pushed all of  his chips onto the fuzzy orange rectangle. Except for the one he ate. It was an odd casino.

He’ll tell you that they were communion wafers. KC is religious, he’ll casually mention it, 3,000 times. But they were Cool Ranch Doritos, the most narcotic of the Ritos.

Cramer always puts ideology before godliness, though. Helping people in mortal need isn’t something he’s comfortable doing as a lawmaker. Food is for sissies and racoons. Teachings in the liberal Bible are for Sunday pretense.

Little did the congressman care, but Russian technicians were messing with the roulette wheel, and other Russians were populating the Trump campaign and visiting with the ultradeep state Iranians. Deducing that Trump is going to blow the whole thing up, the Iranians are pulling for the mad king.

Dividends took a little longer to development, since Vladimir Putin originally hired a couple of Russian roulette experts, and they showed up, eager to pull some triggers. It was a funny anecdote to share. For one of them. The other was probably due to be poisoned anyway.

Anyhow, the Russians got their act together and fooled enough gullibles to win the bet for Cramer. Thurston Howell III told lies to his pasty white base of Tiki tots and dominated the news with at least 17 stupid/offensive comments per day.

Draft dodger Donnie, the most objectionable polecat in the whole history of this country, became alt-right Kevin’s forever man-crush. It has been magical. Harold Hamm is swell, too

In this dystopian era, where grown men dive over hard plastic furnishings to retrieve a $5 baseball and ideologues run amok and run for Senate, Cramer has decided to run against Hillary, Obama, Schumer (Charles and Amy), Pelosi, LBJ, FDR, DOS and Obamacare. The mystical boogiemen ghosts of bullshit past. Heidi Heitkamp is his actual opponent.

It’s the only way to go, for a congressman, who has nothing to run on, except for his creepy adoration of a racist.

If Cramer stands next to anyone at the urinal, it’s a town hall. If he goes on air with one of the Trump bobos, like Rob Port, Chris Berg or Scott Hennen, it’s a town hall. Then, there is KNOX in Grand Forks, and a true believer with a radio station in Harvey, N.D., by the name of Rick Jensen, I think. Kevin keeps track of every encounter, It’s like bragging about the number of bullheads you fished out of the Mouse River.

Then, there’s the Heidi 💜 Hillary meme, which without irony, the Cramer campaign comes right out and says that because Heidi pulled for Hillary, the most qualified candidate by the width of Don and Rob’s hindquarters, and who spent most of her professional life as a lawyer, advocating for children, Heitkamp no longer has North Dakota values. But the New York sleazeball does. Fifty-seven percent of Americans don’t think he’s honest. Such malarkey.

Is Cramer saying that dishonesty is a North Dakota value? Or adultery? Seems like bad messaging.

Heidi and Hillary are moderates, not that grandma Clinton matters, since she isn’t in the game.

Donnie spent his adulthood mismanaging his inheritance, avoiding STDs, prostituting his last name and cheating as many people out of their money as possible. Trump University wasn’t the half of it.

Cramer is all too oily (Hamm residue) to not intentionally say false stupid things, following in Trump’s clown shoes.

Heidi did not, nor could not, repeal your temporary tax cut. That’s a lie, Kev. The tax scam is permanent for corporations, though.

And all of us were called deplorables. So sad. It’s not true, though. She said half. Evidently, Cramer feels like he and his base are in the basket.

“You know, to just be grossly generalistic, you could put half of Trump’s supporters into what I call the basket of deplorables. Right?” Clinton said. “The racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamaphobic — you name it. And unfortunately there are people like that. And he has lifted them up.”  — Time

Heidi also voted favor of late-term abortion, according to the holy one. Not true either.

There is no such thing.

“Though many media reports and other literature use the phrase ‘late-term abortion,’ it is not accurate and should not be used,” Hal Lawrence, M.D., executive vice president and CEO of ACOG (American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists ), said in an email. “A full-term pregnancy is defined as a pregnancy with a gestational age between 39 weeks and 40 weeks, 6 days. ‘Late term’ refers to a pregnancy with a gestational age of 41 weeks to 41 weeks, 6 days. Abortions are not performed at ‘late term.’” — Cosmopolitan

How many procedures has Trump paid for? Who could guess? The Yellow Boy has paid his way out of every inconvenience.

Kevin Cramer is a liar and has adopted some cretinous values. More lies will be coming.

I’ll end with a too late suggestion for Will Gardner. Just walk in. Why stand out in the cold?

“I remember putting on my dress really quick because I was like, ‘Oh my god, there’s a man in here,’ ” said Mariah Billado, the former Miss Vermont Teen USA. Trump, she recalled, said something like, “Don’t worry, ladies, I’ve seen it all before.”

RON SCHALOW: Kevin Cramer’s Criminal Choice 

There are many public servants and oil executives to blame for their silence but only Kevin Cramer, Mr. North Dakota way, thinks he deserves a seat in the United States Senate. So, he has to answer for his failures.

“It took “more than 1,000 firefighters from 80 different municipalities in Quebec and from six counties in the state of Maine” to help with evacuations and fire-fighting efforts in the small town (Lac-Megantic) of only a few thousand people, according to a Transportation Safety Board of Canada report.” — Bellingham Herald

That was in was in July 2013. Forty-seven people died when a Bakken oil train careened off the tracks, which led to a series of violent explosions. Five victims were vaporized.

“(Congressman Kevin) Cramer said after 10 years (2003 to 2012) on North Dakota’s Public Service Commission, he was confident the state’s oil was safe.” —The Minot Daily News Sept. 12, 2014

I could go into why his statement to The Minot Daily News was so sociopathically dangerous and irresponsible because there were many more Bakken oil train disasters to come, but his inaction before and after one particular incident explains where his heart lies.

2008. Just outside of Luther, Okla., and 30 miles from Oklahoma City, the first train hauling Bakken crude derails and explodes. Big red flag.

(Would this spur you to action? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ec1JtY5kfXE)

“Among 14 cars that derailed in mixed freight train, eight cars of crude oil derailed. All spilled their contents, three from large gashes in their shells. The spilled oil caught fire and caused a massive explosion that was captured by a local TV news crew in a helicopter. About 35 people were evacuated but returned to their homes the same day. Crude oil originated in Fairview, Mont., in the Bakken region. Incident could have been an early sign of Bakken oil’s flammability.” — McClatchey, Jan. 27, 2014

Fairview straddles the North Dakota, Mont., border, but if any train originating in the Bakken explodes, it would raise concerns with any regulator with a conscience. No worries there.

But oil trains had stopped exploding on impact many decades ago, right?

Yes, but it was hurry hurry in the Bakken. The oil barons deliberately chose not to remove the explosive heptane, pentane, methane, propane, butane, ethane, isobutane and so on from the crude oil before filling the tanker cars. It was a choice. Oil companies decided, and regulators, like Kevin, looked the other way.

“The oil industry says there is a ready market for the extracted gases in Texas, but none in North Dakota. Therefore, say the producers, the explosive gases are best shipped to refineries while still dissolved in the crude.” — Railway Age

Kevin Cramer knew what was in the liquid coming out of the ground, and he knew the concoction they poured into the tanker cars, which were designed  to haul corn syrup. And since trains have been derailing since they were invented, he knew what was likely to happen.

Unless Kevin was really bad at his job. It’s possible. Neither option is flattering.

Luther, Okla.; Lac-Megantic, Quebec; Aliceville, Ala.; Casselton, N.D.; Lynchburg, Va.; and more big booms, until Mosier, Ore., on June 3, 2016.

The fire chief of Mosier is still whiter than usual and shaking, just at the thought of what the damage would have been when a single sheared-off track bolt caused the derailment, fire and explosion of a Bakken oil train that would have burnt down the entire town had the wind been blowing like normal through the Columbia River Gorge. Spilled oil gummed up their sewage system, but none reached the river, so yay for abnormal weather conditions.

Trains are still making runs to the West Coast, and a facility was finally built in North Dakota to refine the explosive gases. All of the gases, for all of the wells? I don’t know.

On Sept. 23, 2014, the North Dakota Industrial Commission holds a hearing:

“They (oil execs) testified that the oil was already safe, that train accidents were few and far between, and that regulations would cost the industry a lot of money.” — Prairie Public

“Already safe.”

Kevin Cramer, the proud owner of an oddly configured brain, said it is “discriminatory” to call Bakken crude by it’s given name, in a feeble attempt to obscure the source of the danger from the rest of the continent.

His words: “Well, whenever they refer to it as Bakken crude, you have to conclude they are discriminating because crude is not categorized, or characterized by its origin, by its location, by it’s geography.

“It should be characterized by its characteristics, it’s scientific and chemical make-up, so I think the rhetoric gets a little reckless. It tends to favor a particular point of view, a bias in advance, and that’s what I want to do away with on the 9th.

“I don’t know whether that (stabilization) is necessary or not. That’s part of what we will be exploring in our hearing in the science committee, because is it scientifically possible to strip it out? Obviously, of course, it is … but when you apply not just that, but the economics, and remember, you can strip those light elements off of the crude, but that has to be shipped as well, so in many respects, filling a train with nothing but the light elements, the more explosive, if you will, elements, and making that a bullet train; I’m not sure that is the right answer, so scientifically can you do it, sure, but you have to look at it holistically and consider all of the other elements; including economics, and is the benefit of doing something like that trump other things like speed of trains, and what kind of cars. There are other things to consider. That’s why I think a congressional hearing is the next best step, dealing specifically with the science of the crude.” — Kevin Cramer

“There are some benefits frankly to the stabilization process and that is stripping some of the liquids, some of the other gases off and using them in the marketplace. That is a far better solution that just stripping it for the sake of stripping it.”  Kevin Cramer

Free market ideology over public safety.

And this Cramer gem: “When you strip it, you now have highly explosive gases that have to get to market somehow. They have to go into a pipeline, they have to go on the train, making it even more explosive.”

“RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT is a crime consisting of acts that create a substantial risk of serious physical injury to another person. The accused person isn’t required to intend the resulting or potential harm, but must have acted in a way that showed a disregard for the foreseeable consequences of the actions.”  USLegal.com

Is it any surprise that Harold Hamm is the Cramer campaign finance chair?

Kevin will do or say anything to protect his oil buds, even at the expense of human lives.

RON SCHALOW: Poor Paranoid Lying Port

My buddy, Rob Port, used the coveted space for his Sunday column to set up a hypothetical Festivus pole, air his grievances and sob over his keyboard. My sources say he paced in the hall for a solid 45 seconds before getting winded and falling into a heap of self-pity. The feats of strength portion of Festivus was canceled, due to a lack of strength.

It is a Festivus miracle that anyone would waste money on this rube.

The headline and copy exemplified why he isn’t taken seriously, and many people consider him an embarrassment to the newspaper industry, worldwide, and Forum Communications in particular. I’m just generally embarrassed for people with no self-awareness or shame. Ferrets also have no self-awareness or shame. They are the Ports of the animal kingdom.

It’s as if he impersonated a real journalist and a real higher education expert, in a debate at Minot State University. Oh, right. Port did that and wore his finest checkered shirt and what appeared on video to be skinny jeans. The dull-witted one argued with people who have degrees up to their knees.

It’s doubtful that Port understood most of the words, but he was pleased with himself anyway. That’s the type of person we’re dealing with\ and partly explains his column of victimhood woe.

Let’s dissect this dead carp. Port’s words are in quotations.

“COMMENTARY: CRITICS CRY SHUT UP, BUT MY CRITICISM ON SENATOR IS SOUND”

What critic said shut up? He doesn’t know. Port’s Heidi obsession cannot be summed up as sound. It’s not. If you’re into the 109 degrees of separation game, laced with venom, Rob’s your dude.

“MINOT, N.D. — Sen. Heidi Heitkamp and her network of operatives and supporters are out to make me Public Enemy No. 1.”

The youngster never names any of these operatives involved in this conspiracy. He usually calls these imaginary people “surrogates.” The word surrogates, appears in 7,436 Heidi hit pieces.

And he isn’t No. 1. He wishes. Port’s just a lackey.

“The problem is that the senator’s approval numbers are tanking ahead of what promises to be the most vigorously contested election of her life.”

 The Portweasel just made that up. His mediocrity is the problem.

“The solution, it seems, is to paint yours truly as a big, bad bully who just won’t leave poor Heitkamp alone.”

The Portweasel just made that up.

“Remember, this is a U.S. senator we’re talking about. As one of just 100 members of that legislative chamber, she is one of the most powerful political figures in the country. She has a war chest stuffed with millions in donations which funds, among other things, a campaign staff eager to mau-mau anyone critical of their candidate.”

Mau-mau? OK. Port is eager to mau-mau anyone critical of Kevin Cramer. Kevin can say nothing too stupid to get the mau-mau thing from his third favorite media sycophant.

“Lately, though, Heitkamp has taken the posture of a victim in the face of criticism from me. Her staffers, who never bother to respond to my requests for comment or interviews, routinely contact my bosses encouraging them to shut me up. The state’s opinion pages frequently feature letters to the editor from Democratic operatives whinging on about a supposed “obsession” with the senator.”

Heitkamp has never mentioned the blogger’s name, to my memory, but Rob can fantasize about keeping her up at night. Heidi doesn’t consider Port at all. He’s a hack who thinks he deserves some respect because JoeMN, Orville and a small cast of turkey vultures,who circle the polluted pond on his blog, are waiting to attack anyone who might leave a factual comment. These mooks hang on his every word, or at least try to sound out the headline.

“Even my colleague, Mike McFeely, is doing his part for Heitkamp under the guise of promoting professional standards. In a recent column, he was floating the scurrilous idea that I might be paid off by Republicans. He claims that a political commentator like me writing a lot about a candidate in what promises to be the biggest political brawl in state history is somehow unbecoming of someone in our profession.”

McFeely is not Jr.’s colleague (that implies some level of equality), and he wasn’t doing anything on behalf of Heitkamp. And he didn’t float anything. As McFeely stated, readers have wondered about his obviously adhesive relationship with Kevin Cramer. How many lies is that, so far?

“There’s a simple explanation for why all of this is happening: My criticism of Heitkamp is sound.”

 No it isn’t. Sorry, you little hombre.

“It’s resonating with the public.”

It’s not.

 “It’s become inconvenient to Heitkamp’s efforts to get herself re-elected.”
Wrong again. Voldeport (copyrighted by Kris Wallman), thinks a lot of himself.

“Thus, it must be removed. Or diminished.”

Thus, the thin-skinned one doesn’t understand the issue. Drama queen.

“Hilariously, there seems to be little concern from my critics about the senator’s brother operating a Fargo-based radio station as a de facto campaign headquarters. When Joel Heitkamp was riding herd on Heitkamp’s opponent in 2012 — former Republican Congressman Rick Berg — there were no complaints from our friends on the left.”

Port complained, and since I listened to KFGO before that election (did Robbie?), and to call the radio station as a de facto campaign headquarters, is ridiculous. Another lie. I’m sure it sounded true during a fever dream brought on by mayonnaise malaise.

“The hypocrisy is so thick you could cut it with a knife.”

I love cliches.

“You’ll notice that the bulk of the criticism of my coverage of North Dakota’s U.S. Senate race is not focused on what I’m writing. There are few rebuttals offered for the points I’m making. Rather, we are being treated to tantrums from people who are upset that I’m writing anything at all.”

Also, not true. Weasel boy is throwing the tantrum in this comedy.

“I dislike dedicating a column like this to some food fight with a bunch of politicos and campaign operatives, but I felt I owed you, the audience, a rebuttal to the smear campaign against me.”

Gosh, thanks, I did feel owed. Port knows how to smear, but not enough people care about him to call anything a campaign.

“I choose topics because they matter. My critics want me to shut up because they know those topics matter.”

Another miss. Have another bottle of cough syrup.

“One truth I’ve learned in 15 years of writing about politics is that you usually get the most flak when you’re over the target.”

Writing is a strong word.

RON SCHALOW: Port And Cramer — Making Collusion Fun Again

I bought a gizmo that is supposed to drive away vermin by emitting a super high-pitched sound. I wanted a herd of hard-partying ants on a sugar high to take a hike. Or take a long walk off a short pier, like my uncles used to tell me on a regular basis.

It’s undignified to live with insects that strut around like they own the place. So far, all the annoying squeal (I imagine) has kept away are bears. White through black. Haven’t seen a one of them. The ants laugh and line dance on the gadget. “Boot Scootin Boogie” still haunts me, from a former life.

Speaking of bears, I imagine that some of the college-educated professional news people at the Forum and WDAY have also tried audio waves to shoo away the pesky amatuer Rob Port. The raccoon infestation has moved over to Broadway, but the blogger is evidently immune to good vibrations, toxic sprays and kites that look like dragons. Hang in there, people.

Aside from his calling them “colleagues,” which insults me and I don’t even work there, Port also has a neurological problem level of shrill repetition, with his topics.

HEIDI HEITKAMP WORE MISMATCHED SOCKS TO PROM!

WHO GAVE BIBI NETANYAHU A NOOGIE IN AN UBER? WAS IT HEIDI?

HIGH FOUR? IS HEIDI HEITKAMP TOO SHORT?

DOES RED CAUSE VITAMIN D DEFICIENCY? MY SOURCES SAY YES!

HEIDI TOOK A KNEE WHEN HER COACH SAID, TAKE A KNEE!

She’s a vicious red-haired she-devil, no doubt.

Obviously, Port writes his own headlines because no standard-issue person could concoct such clunky word strings.

One of his favorite heavily repeated themes is that Heitkamp is a big meany, and she will surely pick on the angelic Congressman Kevin Cramer.

Recently, Port posted the following:

“THIS IS WHY SENATOR HEITKAMP HAS TO MAKE VOTERS HATE HER OPPONENT”

“I’ve long predicted that the 2018 U.S. Senate election will be one of the ugliest North Dakota has ever seen.” (Now, that’s some fine punditing.)

“Part of the foundation for that prediction lays in the way the incumbent, Sen. Heitkamp, campaigned in 2012. She ran a VICIOUS campaign that year, BRUTALIZING her opponent Rick Berg with her surrogates painting the man as a “slum lord” and worse.” (Robbie made the wrong prediction and has been pouting about it ever since. Berg claimed that Heitkamp wanted to disarm our military, so Port can hang his hat on that gem.)

Furthermore:

“But if she can use her millions in out-of-state contributions to turn the race into referendum on what an awful person Congressman Kevin Cramer is, maybe she can win.” (Well, he is awful.)

And:

“She’s a gifted politician, she has millions from out of state donors in the bank already, and she’s proven to have FEW SCRUPLES when it comes to SAVAGING her political opponents.”

So, because the smiling, smarmy, smirking Cramer would never resort to running a negative campaign, little Port has taken the initiative to pick up the slack with the scruple-free, vicious and savaging of Kevin’s opponent, Heidi Heitkamp. Chris Berg and Scott Hennen help.

And Cramer has a standing spot on Port’s radio show. I wouldn’t listen if threatened with a push into a pit crawling with saw-scaled vipers. But it’s hard to stifle the commercials, and I can confirm that Robbie giggles like a little girl when he thinks he’s said something funny.

Of course, junior is also a flack for big oil, the North Dakota GOP, pipeline companies and downtrodden wealthy corporations.

He prefers provocative statements for headlines that aren’t proven in the copy or don’t match the content of the post. But it doesn’t matter.

While being indoctrinated in government high school, he might have been told that 60 percent to 80 percent of readers peruse only the deceptive headline, and Forum Communications allows him three or four headlines per day, which enter the bloodstream of the organization.

Many take Port’s headlines as gospel. It’s an insidious way to push an agenda. He can come up with any dribble that leaks out of his ears without any pushback.

Port also misrepresents the facts on a regular basis. Opinion is one thing, math is another. As is science. Truth supersedes ideology. Port is a liar. The match with Cramer makes sense.

But the deceit never gets corrected. He just moves to the next sham Heitkamp scandal. Try digging through her garbage, you little brown-nose bear.

RON SCHALOW: From Adultery To Zinke

Holy moly, where has the time gone? It seems like only yesterday, Ryan Zinke was on North Dakota soil. Yes, THE Ryan Zinke. I still shiver at the thought. The ethically challenged secretary of the Interior — most in the Cabinet are corrupt, so it’s no big deal — was smack dab in Grand Forks, to fire up the Republican elite at the gun-free Alerus Center.

There were still bullet holes all over. Just a small gun event, I heard. “Well, we THOUGHT he was a bad guy!” The target was one of the bartenders who did look a little not white.

Rep. Luke Simons produced a video to show how easy it was to beat the security of the gun-free zone. Actually, he just didn’t want to give up the free hotel coffee for he and his wife, but his point was made. The cups could have just as easily been Uzis— or .50-caliber American Eagles.

As for the speech, no one, except for conventiongoers who were evidently unaware of the boredom to come, knows how Zinke performed. Since his chiseled presence was so exciting, the pundits all took a premium length break. Anonymous sources tell me that they took a Lyft to downtown and wandered around looking for food — or alcohol. Mostly alcohol.

Rob “fake news” Port, of the Kevin Cramer campaign, Forum branch, stayed behind at the Alerus, though, to type words, in some order, about Heidi Heitkamp. He’s under a lot of pressure to meet his quota of 63 gripping Heidi posts per week for his adorable little blog, where the alt-right gathers to kibbitz.

For the actual reporters, it was also an opportunity to light up a Pall Mall and strap on the Beretta for the mean streets of downtown Grand Forks.

Several writers jumped off the DeMers Avenue bridge into the mighty Red River. If you climb the rail under significant influence and stare down at the flowing brown water, it’s crazy mesmerizing. Maybe they fell. Accounts differ, but either way, they didn’t have to go back to the rally. One — or two — will wash up in Canada in due time and be charged the proper tariff.

Of course, as far as a keynote speaker, Republicans in red hats were hoping for the big tuna, the ginormous bluefin, the serial adulterer, the compulsive liar, the con artist, the tax cheat, the racist, the sociopath, the draft dodger, the philandering wanker and the most objectionable soulless carcass in the United States who isn’t incarcerated. Who wouldn’t want to watch the loosely constructed jamoke yap at random?

But, as it turns out, the gelatinous grabber was busy fending off pornographic actresses, Playboy bunnies, corruption charges and factual information. He was also up to his armpits in people to throw under the bus. It’s the only exercise the lifelike cartoon character gets. Lots of problems for the weeble. Who could see this mess coming?

As the bad news bled out about the great white, men wailed in the streets, teeth gnashed, stomach contents were vomited, hands were wrung and sobbing echoed through the coulees. One poor mook jumped off our big cow in despair. He just rolled to the bottom of the hill and came to a stop before hitting Interstate 94. Nominal blood loss. No biggie. He might still be laying there.

Of course, these things also happen every day wherever Trump is, so it’s an emotional wash. What’s left of his staff wishes they had a big cow.

The bowling pin shaped golfer’s presence would have made the most pious Kevin Cramer giddy. He dreams of standing beside the abject failure of morality and holding his moist, callous-free, hand high in the victory stance. Religious indeed.

But the a$$hole likely had already zoned out Kevin’s name — and any promises made. Had the congressman done several moments of due diligence, on what has become his host organism, he would have known that the leathery reptile doesn’t honor commitments, lived a me-first life and has been a well known sleaze for decades. A slimeball, as New Yorkers know.

And the entire North Dakota GOP has DJT slime in every nook and cranny, and it doesn’t wash off. Stubby fingers also grabs nooks, so it’s best to wear metal drawers, if you smell him in the vicinity.

Cramer is so enamored with his spray tanned idol, that he compares a difference in opinion with the unofficial “orange is the new black” mascot, to committing adultery.

“Here’s the good news about Donald Trump: Most of the time, he’s for North Dakota, and that’s my point where I’ve heard her say, ‘Gee, I voted with him 55 percent of the time,'” Cramer said.

“Can you imagine going home and telling your wife, ‘I’ve been faithful to you 55 percent of the time?’ Are you kidding me? Being wrong half the time is not a good answer.”

Aside from the obvious fact, that golden boy has adulterated as fast as his beady eyes could covet, the analogy is classic Cramer. Uninformed and confusing. Kevin is the kind of guy who will go nuts if women aren’t dressed in a manner, inoffensive to his God on Earth. White pantsuits send the “perfectly stable” Cramer into a lather, for some reason. But he always stands by his man.

From Roll Call

The congressman tweeted last week that he “will always stand up for farmers,” which “includes opposition to tariffs” that could harm the state’s agricultural sector. That tweet was deleted and replaced with one that also praised Trump for standing up for China. Cramer stressed that he was in contact with the White House, but he “would like to see the president take a more measured approach as the impulse of position has created unnecessary turmoil for our markets.”

Cramer then tweeted Friday that he was in contact with Agriculture Secretary Sonny Perdue and urged him to protect producers from retaliation, saying, “Farmers must know the Admin has their back and I urge them to act swiftly.” —Roll Call.

Most of Cramer’s Twitter wordplay is bull$#!*, since everyone knows that Trump doesn’t listen to anyone and could give a rip about North Dakota farmers, but it was nice of Kevin to tone down his message and praise dear leader. Backs are not being covered.

Blame Democrats for a situation caused by Donnie.

“GOP Rep. Kevin Cramer, who is challenging Democratic Sen. Heidi Heitkamp, said Monday that part of the uproar over tariffs was fueled by Democrats.

“There are people, particularly Democrats, who want to pour fuel on the fire of hysteria,” he told Prairie Public Radio.

Moving down the list of endorsed Republican candidates.

  • From the Kelly Armstrong for Congress website:

“Kelly supported new rules to crack down on extremist protesters.  The DAPL protests exposed some serious flaws in our century code and Kelly supported legislation that strengthened our laws and provided our law enforcement the tools they need to defend us against people who have no respect for our laws or our citizens.  No longer will out-of-state environmental extremists get away with causing destruction and chaos in North Dakota.”

  • From NDXplains:

In his first advertisement, Kelly Armstrong touts his policy stances. One claim, in particular, has caught the attention of viewers. Using imagery that depicts protesters in masks as a clear call back to the Dakota Access Pipeline protest, a female narrator says, “Kelly made sure law enforcement has the tools they need to crack down on out-of-state protesters.”

Armstrong didn’t just blow the racial dog whistle. He yelled directly into a bullhorn. His TV advertisement was clearly aimed at Native Americans, a group that North Dakota racists love to stereotype and hate.

And why just out-of-state protesters? How is that going to work? You can pretty much drive, fly or walk into the state without incident. When the Mayor Del Rae of Moorhead travels over the river to join a protest, what happens? Do we rough her up a bit and exile her back to Minnesota? Such stupidity.

Armstrong selected the founder of the Bastiat cult, Rep. Rick Becker, to make his introduction, so that was an interesting choice. Becker and his small band of ideologues are so far out on the right-wing fringe the majority leader, Rep. Al Carlson, looks like Fidel Castro in comparison.

Anyway, Becker spent 90 percent of his speaking time scolding the Republican audience for not being more rabidly conservative. Basically, like him. Evidently, Armstrong fits the bill for Becker, although his voting record doesn’t.

The most memorable statement, to my mind, spouted by Becker on the stage.

“We recognize that it is not only impossible, but immoral to force equal economic outcome. It is an inevitable and undeniable part of the human experience.” — Rick Becker.

I don’t know who is trying to force equal economic outcome, so that is a fallacy. Liberals would like to see people receiving equal opportunity, but we’re so far past equality in the economy, I don’t know why he bothered to bring it up.

Rick appears to believe in the survival of the fittest, which he claims is the most humane type of society, but it’s not. Maybe for wildebeests.

Then, there is Will Gardner, the nominee for secretary of state, who also got his share of hoots from the Bastiat cult. Anyway, I guess he can build a website. Big deal. He also has an MBA from the University of Phoenix.

Prior to the convention, Gardner wrote an op-ed titled “We Must Eliminate Unverified Ballots in North Dakota”

Gardner begins:

“When you hear of election fraud, do you think of Russian cyber interference or do you think of the thousands of unverified ballots in our last statewide election?

Oh, wait — you don’t know about the 16,000-plus ballots in N.D. that were cast in the 2016 election without an ID?”

Yes, and your problem, Mr. Gardner?

“Last year the Legislature modified the law again, but if the courts continue to rule in favor of allowing unverified affidavit votes, our state will eventually be faced with either accepting the potential for mass voter fraud …”

Except that the votes aren’t unverified. Either Gardner doesn’t know this, or he lied by omission. It sounds very scary, though. The office of the secretary of state verifies the affidavits. Those that don’t pass scrutiny are trashed. If he isn’t up to the task, now would be the time to say, I don’t want to do that.

As for mass voter fraud:

I call bull$#!*and adultery.

 

 

RON SCHALOW — In Defense Of The Mythical Burger Flipper

Mop a mile in my skilled shoes.

I’ve wet mopped (soaked and soapy) a distance equal to the miles between Regina, Sask., and Mount Rushmore in South Dakota, 14 miles wide, and then went back over it with a dry mop to remove the soapy dirty water and leave the floor free of footprints. It could take two passes. Craftsmanship and attention to detail. Close to cross-training for the core.

That was way it was done in the last century, during the age of Aquarius. Research tells me that the mopping process has changed little in the information age. Mop buckets haven’t evolved. Mop heads were always pretty advanced.

That’s just an example of the labor involved, when working in a restaurant, fast-food or otherwise. And mopping isn’t the half of it.

The stereotype used by those who don’t like the riff-raff making poverty level money is that of the easy living “burger flipper,” which is malarkey.

Perhaps there is a person somewhere, flipping hamburgers for eight hours straight, which would be boring and tedious, and then just clocking out, but I doubt it. Maybe, but that wouldn’t apply to the other near 100 percent who work hard, performing many tasks.

And to those who say, “Minimum wage jobs aren’t meant to be a career. They are there to give teens work experience.” That was never true, and even less so, now. Adults were always needed to fill daytime shifts during the school year. Currently with the tight labor market, some folks no longer in schoolNEED to take the work they can find.

Work is work. It’s worth what it’s worth. Age is irrelevant

“Then, they should just get educated and better their situation.” Sure. It’s that simple. Grown-ups have obligations, and not everyone has the resources.

As for providing experience, restaurant owners don’t give a rip about the future. They function to make money. That was always the case, so knock it off with the false talking point. There is no preparing the youngun, for the advancement of society. An employee is lucky to get trained properly. It’s a “next shift” orientated environment.

HOLD IT! TIME OUT!

I intend to rebut the “burger flipper” canard, which follows any call for a raise in minimum wage, but we have new developments. There’s a petition out there for a $15 per hour minimum. That number is another story.

Then, the Fargo Forum felt the need to chime in with some nonsense, and I am forced to swerve a bit.

“Many low-skill service jobs, including motel workers and fast-food employees, earn around $10 an hour, for instance. As Flippy shows, unskilled workers are the most likely to be hurt by a minimum wage. If the proposal makes it to the November ballot, North Dakota voters should reject the nicely named but poorly conceived Fair Wage Act.” —  Forum management and the Editorial Board

Then, a couple of North Dakota Republican lawmakers shared the editorial on their Facebook pages. Rep. Shannon Roers Jones was first and then Rick Becker (he’s a representative) from Bismarck joined in. The free market solves all, you know. I wrote about Becker’s Bastiat Caucus several weeks ago, which makes the regular Republicans look like the Che Guevara Caucus.

Becker did not find the column amusing, or funny, in the least. He fancies himself an intellectual, so his rejoinder was scathing, in his mind. I found it bland. I have found that many conservatives don’t have a well-oiled sense of humor, but Rick could be right. I’ll live. My grandkids don’t think I’m funny, either.

I made the following comment on both pages. I thought it was fairly innocuous.

“Restaurant workers are quite skilled,” I typed. I was quite sincere.

Then, the dustup began. Below is an annotated rendition.

I moved the melee to my page, and others jumped in

“Having worked in numerous restaurants in Bismarck and Grand Forks, I know exactly how hard it is. It is extremely hard. I also own a restaurant now, and know how hard it is. I never said, nor implied, that there is no skill involved. Ron is intentionally misrepresenting things, as usual, in order to bolster interest in his posts,” said Becker.

My retort: “No, sir, you said a degree was the decider. If that’s your attitude, I sure don’t care, but I’m allowed to disagree. Nobody will ever be as smart as you …”

“BTW — stop with the douchery. You know full well that “unskilled” is most commonly used (connotation compared to denotation) to indicate that a person does not have extensive advanced education such as a technical school or college. Clearly a culinary-trained chef is an exception to this.

Formulate a big-boy argument against the opinion, rather than intentionally misapply your offense at a specific word.” —  Rick Becker for North Dakota

So, he doesn’t like me, and doesn’t have any respect for his elder. As to all of the accusations, he is wrong on every count. He’s a politician.

And one of the points of the editorial, besides the “unskilled” crack which could be applied to tons of professions, according to Becker, was the threat of automation. Don’t ask for a raise, or the boss might bring in Flippy. Such BS. Computers and advances in technology have touched all sectors, but Flippy won’t be flipping anything for a long time, if ever, at your local burger joint.

The doctor from Bismarck is not discouraged from making more money by the Fargo Forum, due to many technological advancements in medicine, and more to come.

Furthermore; an organization like Burger King doesn’t flip burgers. Never have. No one ever panicked, or asked for a reduction in pay because of a conveyor moving over fire.

BACK TO REGULAR PROGRAMMING

When Williston, N.D., was full of oil workers, the McDonald’s, due to necessity, was paying $15 per hour to start. The price of the Big Mac remained the same. I know because I called. This notion some folks have that a nickel raise for the lowest paid in our society, means that all prices will jump is simply wrong. It doesn’t work that way. Some places have a sales volume great enough to make labor costs look nominal compared to other expenses. Nobody is hurting themselves by making more money. That’s silly.

Nobody else in this country, in any other income stratus, is expected to be responsible for possible inflation.

Adults had careers that supported a family. In retail, at stores like Sears, Kinney’s Shoes and other stores that made up the first indoor mall in Minot. That was 1964. The starting wage at Sears, as of five years ago, was $8 an hour. That amount doesn’t accomplish much. Times change.

Back in the day, an assistant manager at many restaurants could make a good living. Unfortunately, in this age, owners often put an employee on a salary, slap a title on them and then work them into the dirt, since there is no overtime pay, when a person is paid set wages. Seventy to 80 hours a week aren’t uncommon.

It’s a harder job now, since most restaurants insist on having a menu with 800 items. Memorize it. You start tomorrow.

In 1973, we had nine options. Steaks, a burger, a chicken dinner, a fish option and a child’s portion. Every weekday lunch, and all day Tuesday, a diner could get a 6-ounce ribeye, with a baked Red River Valley red, a salad and Texas toast, for 99 cents.

I started out as a busboy. We carried tubs, with three slots for silverware containers, and were under a lot of pressure, to keep up with traffic. Since trays were used, we would use those to backstop all of the dishware and pile the works up to the eyeballs. At least my eyeballs. I hadn’t grown that last foot, yet.

A busboy needed to be strong and fast. Fill a tub, get it back to the dishwasher, grab a clean tub and get the hell back out there. Tabletops, booths and chairs had to be clean and dry. No garbage on the floor. I was skilled.

Working in kitchen requires a quick mind. fast hands and endurance. The same could be said for the waitstaff. Hollering is going happen between these two groups, and the word unflappable is used for those who can stay calm during these exchanges and the strain of memorization, organization and a mind being torn in 12 directions. Many are very skilled. The others leave and wait for their check in the mail.

Perkins, Village Inn, Doolittles and the rest of the sit-downs. Subway, McDonald’s, Dairy Queen and the others with a drive-through, and inside customers stand in a line. Skilled. The whole lot. Some may have degrees. I don’t know.

A good dishwasher has to be very skilled. A dishwasher working at peak times, a minute from disaster, is a ballet. I could do it. I was skilled.

I bussed and washed for $1.60 per hour. I’m not bragging or complaining. Gasoline was cheap, which was helpful, since I owned a German car made by Panzer. It was stout but thirsty. I could afford college — and some beer. When I was moved up to fry cook, my pay was raised to $1.65, and I moved on up to the east side. Skillfully so.

Clean a grease trap. Yes, it’s a thing.

Imagine the worst for a bathroom. Clean it.

Anyone who can work with the public without being sedated is very talented and should receive combat pay. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you might be one of the spirit breakers.

Carry out a 50-gallon garbage container full of wet sloppy plate scrapings and lift it high enough to get the contents into the dumpster when you’re 90 pounds. Pick up any crud that ended up on the ground. Repeat.

Get on your hands and knees to sweep under EVERYTHING before mopping. There is a lot of “under” in food places. These chores have to be done multiple times per day.

There is a lot of grease collected by filters before the smoke from fryers, grills, ovens, broasters, rotisseries, toasters and broilers is sucked outside. These must be cleaned every day. Everything does.

I could on, but there’s no need. These people have been labeled unskilled to keep wages down. Why else? Anyone who has been there knows that food service is hard work, that takes skill.

And the same goes for all of the jobs that have been labeled as “unskilled” by a pompous someone who knows nothing of reality.

RON SCHALOW: Cramer Can’t Worship Trump And God

Well, he has been, so I guess it’s possible, but it doesn’t seem proper to a hyena-fearing person like me. Maybe “shouldn’t” is a better word.

Kevin Cramer’s intoxicating “piousness cologne” doesn’t quite overwhelm the stench of the $#itholes that Donald Sr. dug here and there and has been filling with “Trump Tators™” for most of his life.

From the best-selling Decalogue, found in the Ark of the Covenant: “You shall have no other gods but Me.” Also: “You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything.”

Those are the FIRST two!

“I really see the vocation of politics like I see every vocation — whether it’s being a reporter or serving in public life or being a plumber — as an extension of ministry.” — Kevin Cramer

But that’s not how it works. Mixing religion with government, and whatever the depraved Trump is, sounds good to some people, but the citizens of North Dakota, and the country, come first. It’s not optional.

If Cramer wants to minister, he can build a fire and brimstone proof church and go to town.

And the word “hypocrite” is being stretched like Trump’s golf khakis. Golly. St. Cramer might be a fraud — and a willing participant in the unholy shenanigans of the unvirtuous Trump. Collusion! Collusion!

Donald Trump, America’s Silvio Berlusconi, is not a good man. He is not a mediocre man. His claim to religion is fake. It’s more likely that a cross-eyed badger, with a drinking problem, has read the Bible than has ol’ collagen lips.

He’s deceitful, mean-spirited, small, vane, racist and a misogynist, just to name few of his better qualities. 45 is of such low quality in so many ways that thesauruses have been scraped clean of fitting synonyms for doofus nimrod.

A number of normal humans and other bipeds have accused the odious Trump of species appropriation. They think the painted pansy might be of the superfamily Muroidea, which would explain the missing Cheddar from the White House rodent traps.

Do you think Trump ever killed or had anyone killed? Had to think about that for a second, didn’t you? I don’t know the answer. Is there anyone encased in the cement of a Trump building? It almost seems probable. We know he never killed anyone in war, though, since he avoided Vietnam like it was exercise or a blister.

“We have in the person of Donald Trump a very Lincolnesque president,” Congressman Kevin Cramer said, just Feb. 23, after a year corrupt presidential hijinks.

Hasn’t Cramer been reading the papers? Is he literate? Is he void of perception? Is he talking about Orville Lincoln from Maxbass? Or is he just a tool who votes 98.5 percent with the Trumpskunk?

Regarding the biggest of stuff, our jumbo lump of clean-coal president refuses to engage an old enemy waging a war against our country. Helloooo? Bungling Commander-in-Chief. Wake the eff up! There are foreigners messing with our stuff, and some fine brains, on both sides. High crime.

Remember Don’s pal, Vladimir Putin, who has accepted being hairless on top. Well, the Russians have been waging a cyber war against us, and Einstein didn’t want to believe it. Having a walk-in closet full of pasty-faced guys just chattering away in an Eastern Slavic tongue would make Trump look stupid(er), and he doesn’t like being teased. So, it’s Obama’s fault.

Hell, we usually blow up an extra country, just for good measure, when provoked. But Trump is more worried about covering his own prodigious ass than his country, so he tweets, as the fire rages.

Possibly, excessively painted clown face is getting shook down by Putin. Or duffle-bag-of-spuds butt could be cleaning money for some other crooks or getting money funneled to Trump University from Russia through the NRA. Or perhaps something serious.

This punchline of a president is juggling more scandals than he has hairs on his head. 45 might be looking at jail time, if Robert Mueller keeps digging and finds a few slight peculiarities in the books, like a missing skyscraper, not on the balance sheet. They don’t serve KFC and McDonald’s in the klink. It’s tough being a criminal when president. People watch, listen, film, write and tell everyone, the blabbermouths. The stable genius must not have thought of that.

Obama didn’t bug the Trump Tower, he’s not from Kenya, and there were way more people at president Obama’s Inauguration.

Donald Trump’s hijinks go back decades. Most of it was documented or recorded, since the dip couldn’t stand to stand, or sit down, without a cameraman in attendance. He has been breaking Commandments, and laws, at a clip that would make Charles Manson blush.

He’s adulted, stolen and coveted like crazy. Donnie doesn’t pay his bills, cons whoever he’s looking at and counts the alt-right as most of his base. The Tiki tykes warm one of his internal organs. Hookers, porn stars, assaultin, and looking quite oily.

Envy, gluttony, greed, lust, pride, sloth and wrath. Which one doesn’t fit?

Then, 17 people are executed in Florida, and he rails against his own FBI and gives the big grin and thumbs up at the hospital.

Blah, blah, blah. Everybody knows this stuff. There are documentaries about the sleazeball, for crissakes. He’s left an endless trail of disgruntled workers and violated women.

Yet, most of state and federal lawmakers from North Dakota still support this pimple, and they’re never going to admit that lancing the orange cyst would be the healthy thing to do for the lot of us.

If 3M orders a new mop handle, some legislator will attribute the transaction to the tax scam. See? See? Oh, shut up. Most of the 1.5 trillion in borrowed dollars has probably ended up in warm climate hidey holes. Trump has earmarked his winnings for slippery lawyers.

In North Dakota, legislators are most excited by Trump’s racist xenophobic efforts to stymie the inflow of refugees, Muslims and legal immigrants. They’ll deny it, but one of the representatives offered legislation to determine what he called the “absorptive capacity” of refugees coming to Fargo. Uh, huh. We’re talking hundreds trying to escape dangerous places. We can spare a potato field.

When thousands descended on the west, to poke holes in the earth so the oil could be siphoned out, nobody asked about the absorptive capacity of Williston. Nor did they fret about price gouging, real North Dakotans being priced out of their homes or homeless job seekers sleeping in their pickups in minus 20 weather.

Free market, dude. Personal responsibility. Alabamians should have put on a few pounds, and added a layer of insulating blubber, before being lured north of the Mason-Dixon line. It will take five more minutes to freeze solid, if a Southerner can get up to Trump’s fighting weight of 239.

Now, we have the alt-right Cramer stepping up because he’s a patriot, doggonit, to run against Sen. Heidi Heitkamp, who did something the Cramer surrogates in the media were able to spin into maybe a high five after an anti-abortion vote. Then, she slam-dunked a basketball and made aggressive gestures towards the Republican bench. Pure evil. Rumor is, Heitkamp once knelt during the Beer Barrel Polka.

Heidi offends Cramer. Alt-right Trump doesn’t.

Everyone can see that the poor orange man cannot ride the bike. And he falls, falls and falls. And not necessarily accidentally. And lies, lies and lies. He obviously can’t help it, or doesn’t care.

Cramer claims to serve God. Donnie is the least moral man who ever bragged about assaulting women without suffering any repercussions. Kevin can’t credibly worship two Gods, when one of them would gut you like bluefin tuna for a Big Mac.

Yet, Cramer glommed onto the billionaire early in the process, when a child could plainly see that the man was crooked and shouldn’t be left alone to watch your plants or trusted with a guy’s wife. It was obvious.

“Show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are,” said someone. Trust me.

Kevin hangs around with a bad hombre, and another billionaire, Continental Oil CEO Harold Hamm, who volunteered to handle the finances for Cramer’s faceoff with Heidi. He’s no angel, either. Our boy will be a senator, or a board member of a huge oil company. His patriotic flip-flop is a lie. Cramer is a blatant opportunist, but Trump won’t remember his name — he may not, now — should he lose. He’ll just be another Eric.

Cramer is also a first-out-of the-gate Trump apologist and pantsuit critic. When he felt the networks were being too tough on his guy, Kevin sent questionnaires to the broadcasters, to put them on notice, I guess. Reporting accurately about old obese Don is going to be harsh because he’s incompetent — and proud of it. You just have to face it.

Cramer hoots during State of the Union speeches, tries to sanitize stupid Nazi remarks by the administration and lies about whatever is on the menu for the day. Kevin has denigrated the FBI, which has been successfully ferreting out Russians and their pawns. Why? Simply to protect the president.

National security versus Trump. Cramer chooses Trump.

A guy could go on forever about Trump, so a summary is futile. He has dug a copious number of $#itholes over the decades and sunned his belly in scores of swamps. It is all on Google. But Kevin looked down into the seven circles of greasy putrid Trumpiness and did a belly flop fully pantsuited, pulled himself onto the back of a croc and smirked. Infowars was on the big screen.

Now, I understand that some people say he is a nice person as a friend. And Cramer may do good things in the neighborhood and have a tremendous family. Someone else can write about that.

Politician Kevin can be mean, nasty and deceitful. He will lie. He has to me. Cramer has put big oil and the NRA over public safety. Everybody knows it. He isn’t as smart, or as hard working, as Heidi Heitkamp, if it mattered in this state. Our smarmy congressman does as he’s told. It’s a good pastime, if you can get it.

“In three years (maybe seven), Donald Trump will no longer be president,” Richard Brookhiser, a conservative scholar, wrote in National Review a few days before the (CPAC) conference began. “But conservatives who bent the knee will still be writing and thinking. How will it be possible to take them seriously? The short answer is, it won’t.”

And Congressman Cramer is no Trump. No one comes close. But he has his own kook going on.

“But by the way, did you notice how poorly several of them were dressed as well?” he asked. “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 to celebrate her loss. You cannot get that weird.” — Kevin Cramer (Silly and inaccurate).

“(Trump is) a president who values communicating directly with people,” Cramer continued. “It confounds many people in ‘the swamp,’ particularly the elite media, who just don’t understand why he doesn’t filter his message through them.” — Kevin Cramer (Prime $#ithole bull$#it)

President Trump, Cramer added, is a political and communications genius. (Sixty-five percent disagree.)

“Forty years ago, the United States Supreme Court sanctioned abortion on demand. And we wonder why our culture sees school shootings so often.” —Kevin Cramer (Oh, my)

“As a non-Native man, I do not feel secure stepping onto the reservation now.” — Kevin Cramer (He’s not popular with the Natives, but the statement is pure prime $#ithole bull$#it.)

Asked if he was scared by Trump’s recent comment that ozone-depleting compounds don’t hurt the environment, Cramer responded, “No, it doesn’t scare me, because frankly, it gets back to his blunt talk. He speaks so plainly, and yes, it may not seem sophisticated, it may not seem hyper-intellectual, but it’s plain enough for everybody to understand. The problem, of course, is that plain enough for everybody to understand should not be a synonym for patently false. — Kevin Cramer (Speaking plainly is not the same thing as lying.)

“These mandates and these wind farms are all based on this fraudulent science from the EPA, meaning their claim that CO2 is a pollutant and is causing global warming.” — Kevin Cramer (Big lie.)

“Yes!” the third-term lawmaker shouted from the House floor when Trump noted his administration had cleared the way for construction of the Keystone XL and Dakota Access oil pipelines. “That was me, yes it was,” Cramer, a member of the Energy and Commerce Committee and a backer of both pipelines that will carry oil through his state, told E&E News after the speech. He called Trump’s speech the best before Congress since President Reagan’s addresses three decades ago. (He’s stable, though. Really.)

“I Love the NRA” — Kevin Cramer

“They should be greatly relieved,” Congressman Kevin Cramer told me of Democrats reacting to his decision not to run for the U.S. Senate. (Boastful, like his bud.)

“If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat.” — Kevin Cramer (Empathy-free.)

RON SCHALOW: Don’t Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor Or Anyone Huddled

I don’t like to brag, but I’m not a white supremacist.

I’m a pale pinkish beige, touch of gray, slight kale-green hue supremacist. Gray geese, they call the two of us in the press, although, honestly, they don’t pay any attention. Effing chromos, otherwise.

Me, or I, except after c, and the other bloke in the mookie genus, Roy, are part of this microscopic first cousin tendril of the standard Caucasian, like you see wandering around looking up at the sun during an eclipse.

No offense to nitwits. I’m not a racist. I’m the least racist Kodachrome who ever existed, except maybe for Roy. Tough call. He hollered obscenities at a White Snowy owl once, but the bird probably had it coming, considering it latched onto Roy’s head. It dug in pretty deep, so it must have planned on staying for a while. Roy looks a lot like a fence post.

Some of our earlier relatives were pretty rabid racists, though. For instance, Brita. “Filter,” they called her, used to shout, “you effing sapiens. Go back to your “shithole.” But she could pass for white in the sunlight, so she doesn’t count. Some garish cosmetic-laden, pumpkin-headed lard a$$ grabbed Brita’s p**** one time, and she made him eat the Russian wife catalogue in his coat pocket, with no condiments. Also a coffee table.

Roy and I come from a long line of off-brand genetic northern heavyweights, including Ragnar Lodbrok and Eddard Stark, as far as anyone knows. Roy brags a bit, and gets downright militant at times, but we usually just do a little bleaching and blend in with the white people. Our meetings suck. Point of order! Point of order! Shut the eff up, Roy! Give me that gavel, you effing mook!

Roy’s prickly personality has led to a good stoning on several occasions. It’s never seemed to bother him, though. Tough skull genes. He’s lost a few eyebrows.

We held a rally once, followed by a walk for Kodo justice, but we barely got a block before Roy spots some bad hombre down on one knee, and loses it. “You ungrateful SOB,” screams Roy before he coldcocks the poor sap. It turns out the dude was in the midst of a major heart attack. Who knew it could be so complicated to spot a myocardial infarction from 50 yards? Anyway, the drama got thick. Roy grabbed a flight and is currently selling LED light bulbs in Puerto Rico. Better than being deported to Mitchell, S.D.

But Fargo resident, Pete Tefft IS a white supremacist. He’ll argue otherwise. But he’s aggressively white supremacist. Trust me. Any brown people introduced into the country, by birth or immigration, is just another excuse to scream “white genocide” for this dangerous nut. It’s a bright red flag at the least. He lurks around Chris Berg’s POV page, waiting for the tossing of the red chum.

Not that it makes any difference to him, but sepia-toned, and other shades of brown humans, have been on this dirt for over 10,000 years, and many more nonwhite, non-Christian types have showed up and settled, long before this space was a country. And many came on one of the delightfully torturous and mandatory death cruises. This hemisphere never met Pete’s expectations.

Tefft calls himself a “pro-white activist,” which in Fargo doesn’t even merit a torch lit 5K — or a pancake feed. Only the altos feel like they’ve been trodden on for their skin color. The others are tailgating.

People in Fargo, including me, have referred to Tefft as our resident white supremacist. If only that were true. Pete is just tip of the iceberg with a defective haircut. Do you just goose-step into the nearest Cheap Cuts and ask for a Herr Himmler?

Alt-right dolts have permeated the country. But few altos show up at a women’s march looking for attention like Tefft. The misogyny runs strong in the cult. Ninety-nine percent of the yokels stay dormant, like devious cancer cells, until summoned. I’ve heard a tremendous tuning fork is involved. There’s always a humming in my head anyway. The dog whistles are less subtle, and the beast has risen. Then, there is the president, who just flat out spits the racism right at the camera lens. For some, this a feature not a bug.

In Fargo, the severe right flock to the usual online places, for a shot at feeling superior. KVLY and POV-something are always good for some race baiting headlines, as are Scott Hennen’s Facebook page and Rob Port’s Fargo Forum- owned blog, where they outwardly cheer the Tiki tots of Charlottesville and continue to bitch about Obumble. Port is a peach, except for his dishonest pit. Port and KVLY have banned me from their sites. Probably a good move.

  • Acceptable comment on Port’s blog: “Speaking of fun, i am trying to decide what to do with my first month of my tax cut. Maybe a new drone or a neon sign for my bar room. I need those things more than some 400lb ghetto whore needs her food stamps.” Warning: Not all of the comments are this classy.

Anyway, the first thing to establish for racists is when commenting on any topic, is that you’re not a bigoted racist and whine about probably being called a bigoted racist by some cuck officially with the “intolerant left,” then proceed to act like a bigoted racist. There’s a manual on 4Chan.

Thankfully, like everyone else, all alt-righters are not alike. It’s a buffet. Some believe there are people who identify as transgender because it is trendy. Others don’t know what those words mean. It’s a cornucopia.

Having an attitude problem with refugees, dreamers and natives, in particular? Those are the big three in North Dakota. A red-faced disdain for any type of immigration — and indigenous people — is all you need. You’re set. It’s like a starter kit for racists. The professional race experts who have never been south of Oakes, N.D., like to toss in Chicago, Baltimore, Ferguson and the words “inner city” to show off their memorization skills.

Oh, and the wall. It will make us safe from something, maybe Mexican bears, even though humans have been outsmarting tall barriers for a few thousand years. Outwitting a fear exploiting Trump wall should take a minute. The chain migration whining is BS. Even the few lottery recipients get vetted for years.

We’ve managed to keep tourism down, though. Less stolen hotel ashtrays, I guess. “Marge, let’s go visit that place where the creepy racist lunatic liar runs the show. Whatta you say?” “Shut up, Marvin. You’re an idiot. At least we’ll be safe in Mexico.”

White nationalists, neo-Nazis, Donald Trump supporters and the KKK. Think of the picnics. Swastika tattoos for the kids, crotch grabbing and zero for the cucks. Porn stars. Hankies for the incels who claim  “involuntary celibacy” because of SOCIETY, man. Sob. Alex Jones might be there. Maybe Steve Bannon. BYOT — Bring Your Own Torch.

“White identity” is under attack by multicultural forces, you know. Altos hate “political correctness” and “social justice.” Lib%$&#’s, dem@—!^%’s, and progs are frowned upon with a white hot passion. Boo to “establishment” conservatism. “Jews won’t replace us.” Some also vilify women, especially those pushy feminists. “Femoids” refers to women these rubes consider nonhuman. Deep undercover. Muslims, and anyone who isn’t as straight, as the alt-righters believe themselves to be. There are only two genders because they say so, and saying otherwise confuses them, more than it should.

They have their own language. Like Trump.

  • Fun fact: Stephen Miller, Donald Trump’s Igor, does cameos on cop shows, as the sheet-covered body. Lifting the linen, revealing his dead empty shark eyes, scares the dogs, and they butt their heads into the TV, so they stopped uncovering Steph’s face. Especially troubled were Mexican Chihuahuas. They waited 1,400 years to bite the first European to wade ashore, and they are genetically predisposed to clamp onto the tibia of racist humans.

For all of my years in North Dakota, we’ve been trying get people into this state. Bribing them, if necessary. Now, it depends. Fargo City Commissioner Dave Piepkorn and Rep. Chris Olson, and whole pack of others with at least one good opposable thumb, want to know, as Olson claims, what is the “absorptive capacity” of a town as it applies to legal refugees with a darker tint than Edgar Winter. Or Olaf, for younger readers. Rob Port discovered, through one of his anonymous sources, that Olaf is actually a fake fictional character and is frankly animated, and professionally so. Damn California leftists.

Piepkorn just wants to know how much these people with pigmentation cost the city. He never says, “if anything.” Breitbartism is alive and well in Fargo.

Whoa, let’s just do a cost-benefit analysis on everyone. Send Port a bill for the wear and tear he’s been putting on the sidewalks in Minot. Unreliable sources tell me he walks the town in a disoriented state nightly. He could be smoking too many bowls in a sitting.

Unvetted people are driving into Fargo every day. Some fly. We need to stop every moving van headed our way before the interlopers put in an arugula garden and start brewing deliciously hoppy — with a lemony tang — craft beer. Our city borders are leaking like the Trump White House. Roy was as lazy as 45 easy. But he split without a debriefing. He made good money, so despite his relaxed state of being, his tax contributions put him the plus column.

Such bull$#!*. Nobody wanted to know the “absorptive capacity,” of anything, when the oil patch was teeming with thousands of workers, many who drove their old pickup, all the way from Kentucky, only to find they didn’t have a job waiting. Lot’s of them ended up broke and homeless. Did anyone ask how much these poor people cost Williston?

Did we “absorb” the pimps, drug dealers, thieves, and other crooks who always follow the money, without a hitch?

C.S. Hagen did a research piece, published  in the High Plains Reader, called “DISLIKE” (available online), which identified nine North Dakota politicians who identify with the alt-right.

All of the state representatives listed are also “coincidentally” in the “Bastiat Caucus.” The “Whitesnake Caucus” was already taken, or so many people might say. The next step, obviously, was to look for names in 19th century France.

  • Congressman Kevin Cramer; aka “the barnacle on Trump’s racist ass.”
  • Rep. Rick Becker.
  • Rep. Luke Simons.
  • Rep. Chris Olson.
  • Rep. Daniel Johnston.
  • Rep. Dwight Kiefert.
  • Rep. Sebastian “Seabass” Ertelt.
  • Fargo City Commissioner and Fargo Deputy Mayor Dave Piepkorn.
  • Burleigh County Commissioner Jim Peluso.

I have no doubt that more altos have weaseled their way into our Legislature and other offices, but nobody is bragging about it. Some will rail against the leftist scum, cuckservatives, government lib%$^*s, snowflakes and, of course, the feminists involved in the “New World Order.” They also abhor pedophilia rackets in pizza shops and Hillary’s emails.

I don’t think those in Al Carlson’s “Angry Dinosaur Caucus,” even know what’s transpiring. Al is my representative, and he even answered one of my emails. I was flattered. He wrote, “I’ll get back to you.” Of course that was four years ago, so Carlson might be having trouble working his email machine. Fingers crossed.

Anyone who thinks that allowing less people into our country — Judy Estenson, chairwoman of District 23 of the North Dakota Republican Party wants that. She said so in the Forum. I’ll wager most the North Dakota GOP feels the same. — is going to help anything, is full of liverwurst.

Besides being a plus to our economy, it’s the right thing to do. Save lives, reunite families and provide opportunity to deserving people. It’s not like we’re short on space.

# # #

“An April 2017 analysis by the Government Accountability Office found that in recent years, 73 percent of terrorism fatalities were caused by “far right wing extremists.” — Washington Post.

RON SCHALOW: Partners in Slime

I’m all a flutter waiting on Kevin Cramer’s big decision. Actually, my heart does have a slight flutter. I should have that looked at. Anyway, our lone congressman needs to decide whether to run against Heidi Heitkamp for her Senate seat, or shoot for another two years in Congress. Anyway, the Cong …

Whoa. Wait. Cramer just decided he wants to have a job in 2019. He likes the income — and the benefits — no matter how much he pleads poverty on $175,000. And the work is easy. He just votes as he’s told, which a relatively intelligent parrot, a cockatoo perhaps, could probably handle. But the Constitution insists on human representation. Plus, the birds will fly off in a blur of colorful feathers, given a crack of daylight, and drown themselves in the Potomac. Parrots have shame.

President Trump invited Cramer and his wife to the White House to sell Kevin on running against Heidi. As far as we know anyway. Our congressman has only mentioned it 412 times.

Evidently, the stable genius wasn’t his coherent fourth-grade best, and it was hard to tell exactly what the fat old man really wanted, through the vulgar cursing, and repetition of the story, the one when he invented chunky soup with Millard Fillmore and that one porn star. The best soup ever. Trust him. No $#!**& beet or lima bean soup. That’s what I heard from some guy yelling at a fire plug.

Let this be a lesson to all of the kids out there. The dishwasher gel packs aren’t edible, and don’t inhale the hairspray. Thankfully, 45 kept the grabbing to a minimum during the visit. His digits were cramping up from his most recent Tweet bomb cyclone.

Evidently, the world’s best salesman couldn’t make the sale, even to his most ardent apologist. And Sammy, that’s what Trump calls everyone he can’t remember, decided to play it safe. Or so Kev thinks. I predict that North Dakota state Rep. Rick Becker will change his mind about not running for statewide office, and primary the smirker, and win the Republican nomination. Or Becker will make a run for the Senate. He’s for freedom, you know. It’s a popular stance.

Cramer will find a job quickly. The country has a severe shortage of pantsuit critics.

You have to hand it to the congressman. He glommed onto Trump prodigious bum early and excused everything the crude, incompetent. immoral, racist, sexist, lying, egomaniac, narcissist, tax-evading, xenophobe, draft dodger, mentally challenged, Russian tool and lunatic, with an unseemly large supply of Tiki torches in the oval office, did or said.

The list is much longer, but what’s the point? Seventy percent of Americans already know what a sleazy creep this president has been for many decades. Cramer never even bit his lip. He wanted a Cabinet position. Screw the country.

And the book. Every time I read one of the damning passages, I thought, yeah, I can see that happening. Not too shocking. Few people think he is qualified for the job. He’s a just huckster. OMG, the president is bald! Who would have thought it? Ike was pretty much hairless, but you didn’t see him strutting around with a Pomeranian on his dome.

Trump’s shameful behavior never bothered the holy extra pious Cramer, though. Even the ****hole ooze pile of horse$#!*. The detestable Trump is the opposite of godly. Cramer chose Trump over Christian behavior. Kev’s two-faced. The worst kind of face. Cramer equals Trump now. One in the same.

But God told Kevin to run for Congress. Uh huh. I don’t think he’s allowed to worship Trump, too. I’m positive on that one. I know the pope frowns on it.

Of course, every member of the North Dakota GOP, including the governor, remains silent, which makes them all as complicit in this grease fire as Cramer, and the nativist rhetoric and policies of the fat @$$. Good humans don’t support repugnant con artists.

Trump is an adherent of the alt-right. He’s proven it, over and over. You may have noticed Steve Bannon lurking in the Oval Office looking offensive. The alt-right is made up of white nationalists, white supremacists, neo-Nazis, neo-fascists and others. They like fire on flimsy sticks, don’t care for uppity women and think that white men are under some sort of siege.

North Dakota has a good share of these “fine people” in the Legislature. How many? I don’t know. Too many. Who are they? I could make some good guesses, but voters should just ask — or figure it out — by what type of clever-coded jargon the politicians use on their Facebook pages, and websites.

Many people in North Dakota agree with these views. They believe a wall isn’t stupid and that Trump is looking out for them, “the forgotten people.” Donnie couldn’t pick out North Dakota on a map, and Mr. Gold Toilet would think every town in the state is a $#!*hole. Luckily, we’re already stocked up on Norwegians.

This old yarn was recently posted by two legislators on their Facebook pages, It may go back as far as Reagan’s fictional black welfare queen.

“Went to Yellowstone with my family, signs everywhere saying not to feed wild life. The reason for this is that the wildlife become dependent on handouts and forget how to live in the natural environment.They become lazy, and violent and the family structure is ruined. If it’s true for nature it’s true for humans Of all NATIONALITIES.”

Dog whistle alert at the end. It’s a don’t-call-me-a-racist warning. If you have to deny it, you probably have some extreme ideas about race. “They become lazy and violent, and the family structure is ruined.” Ever heard that line applied to anyone living in Belfield, N.D.?

Are people animals? Yes, but none of them live in Yellowstone, and few people have mounted a human head on the rec room wall. The poster of this simplistic offensive paragraph has cattle. Are they dependent on him, or do they all have jobs in town, at Dairy Queen? Are cows more important than people? To some folks, I guess.

And this next genius lawmaker follows Trump’s lead because like 45, he doesn’t understand the issue or is in denial that an issue even exists, as if living in North Dakota — or a penthouse — makes one an expert on race.

“Thank you, Alejandro Villanueva for doing the right thing and making your fellow veterans proud. To Coach Tomlin and the rest of the feckless Steelers, you’re ungrateful wimps that should be fired.”

This sycophant doesn’t know much about football, but he and his funky haired buddy, know that the NFL is made up of mostly of large black men. Bull$#!* like this plays well with their intellectual base. Quit kneeling, dammit!

As the classy stooge, Rep. Roscoe Streyle would say to these two gentlemen, Trump, and Cramer, if there were any chance he didn’t agree with them; go pound sand, you stupid %@&*$!’s.

RON SCHALOW: Dope For An Old Dope

It was a dark and stormy ni… d’oh. Wrong story. Actually, it was a cool and calm evening, with a cloudless sky and a full moon. Hardly the point but worth noting.

I and an associate were attending one or several parties in Bismarck. It’s not clear how many, but liquor, my favorite liquid at the time, was served. My associate, who was also my friend, was also not allergic to beer and whiskey but was an amatuer comparatively speaking.

On another date, I was at a party in Bismarck, associate-free, where they played “Love by the Dashboard Light” over and over and over. My brain was overflowing with Meat Loaf. You never truly recover.

At some point, pot was introduced into the mix. Except for a handful of times in the past, I had always declined when a lit joint was pushed in my face. I had enough problems. But I was in a weakened state of mind, and my associate was in a regular state of mind but was unphased. We both partook. Deeply inhaled, we did and took our turn on most passes.

I didn’t know if it was good pot. I didn’t know the strain. I had no clue who obtained the pot or where they got it. I had no expertise when it came to marijuana.

Then we decided to go to Mandan. Why? I don’t know. Why did anyone? I didn’t live there and neither did my associate, Maybe there was another party to attend that was too good to miss. There might have been a rumor of a large pack of girls gathered, a gender that motivated my associate to a degree of distraction. Did I get his drift? I easily got his drift. As Hawkeye Pierce once said, “I played left drift in high school.”

I always played it as cool as a fondue pot of bubbling Hot Habanero Cheddar.

Sidebar: Whenever someone mentions Mandan, I always think of an act in one of hotel lounges in Bismarck. The front man of the band referred to Mandarin, the little Chinese community to the west, which wasn’t funny, before singing, “You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me Loose Wheel.” That was pretty clever.

So off to Mandan we drove. By car. I don’t condone or recommend this type of behavior, but it did happen, without a thought. That was my MO for decades. My friend had a big Buick with a huge engine. Gas hadn’t reached a buck yet in 1979. And if I looked under the hood, it made sense. It was reassuring.

Since my friend was considerably shorter than me, the bench seat was set all the way forward, which forced my knees into the glove box. It didn’t hurt. He was a short, stocky cowboy who wanted to try his hand at a city job. He knew how to grow animals and plants for human consumption. I’ve never handled a live roast, but he had. He would even sit on irritated bulls for some reason.

I doubt if we buckled up — or gave it consideration. The Buick rolled off the ramp onto Interstate 94 and didn’t merge with other vehicles, since most normal people were sleeping in the middle of the night. We headed west.

The ride was as calm as any I’ve experienced. The big car moved smoothly and quietly.

I had previously owned a number of large vehicles, none that moved smoothly or quietly. One had the same gas mileage and disposition as a poorly tuned World War II-era Sherman tank. Another had self-flattening tires, which was convenient. On one occasion, the wind whipped the air and snow into a minus-50 chill. By the time I finished switching out the left rear tire, the meat on my ham bones were frozen solid to the marrow of my femur. I had to defrost my legs slowly in a walk-in cooler for a week, like a Butterball turkey fresh from the freezer section. It was unpleasant.

My associate and I tackled some deep topics on the empty highway. We coined the inane phrase “it is what it is” and promised to never repeat it. It leaked out somehow. I don’t think Trump has placed claim on the expression yet.

Was the moon at its apogee, or perigee, or neither? We didn’t have phones that connected to an Internet to get the facts. Or any phone, since they were priced in the Howard Hughes range and were as large as a salt lick. Speculation was all we had. The dark ages.

He wanted me to explain women, since I had been in the company of several females and he assumed I had garnered some useful knowledge. I learned nothing. I’m still stupid on the topic. Perhaps dumber. He was disappointed. I suggested he stand behind one of those bucking horses and wait until the feeling went away.

If most pro and college kickers can blast the football into the end zone almost every time from the current kickoff spot, why in the hell don’t they move the line back, so fans can see a runback. Way more exciting than some dude taking a knee every time. We were in strenuous agreement. Excited utterances nearly erupted.

All was well. Then my associate spotted a giant cow on a mountain to our left. I said, I know that cow. It’s Salem Sue, a superhuge Holstein. It’s dead, as far as I know, but don’t provoke it.

Anyhow, we overshot Mandan by 30 miles, and not purposely as is generally the case. So my associate took the New Salem exit and made two lefts, to get the Buick pointed east. It was acutely untraumatic.

Not much later in my life, I climbed the cow mountain, with several different associates. I used to have a large number of associates. Anyway, the cow is definitely deceased.

We did make it to Mandan, or we kept going to Bismarck, or Jamestown. It was impossibly unimportant.

As George W. Bush rationalized his substance abuse until he was 40: “When I was young and stupid, I was young and stupid.” I suspect he retained the stupidity, and perhaps I have backslid, but not to the degree of decades past.

Now nearly four decades later, I find myself a candidate for marijuana, medical or otherwise, for several chronic maladies. Nothing on my insides seems to be operating with any accuracy, and my nerve endings don’t respect their former boundaries. There is no precision to my walking.

I would like to give it a try. But I’m still ignorant about pot.

Where do I get it, without moving to another state? Do I stand in a dark alley near downtown and vigorously wave my cane? Is there a code word to shout? Is there an app? Does anyone deliver? How much does it cost?

I know there is plenty of inventory. Every other week, some poor schlub who got paid a couple hundred bucks to transport a bale of pot down the interstate, gets pulled over for some bonehead reason.

I used to have associates across the spectrum, some who could handle touchy things for me, or at least tell me what to do. Google is worthless on this topic, and I love Google. I used to be in cahoots with the Canadian mafia for crissakes. They weren’t that scary.

Opiates don’t do the trick, and I’m kind of glad. I would rather smoke a weed.

Tell the Feds if you wish. Maybe they’ll know how the hell it works.