I read another letter from Phil Shellabarger that bullies Sharon Ramirez. I had responded to his last letter, but before I found the address, lost it to the vagaries of my computing skills.
The last thing this country needs is mockery, juvenile insults, and silly challenges (“Dish it Out.”) Sharon is entitled to her opinion of the vile person inhabiting the White House, as he is to his.
Don’t feel sorry for us liberals. George McGovern said, “Above all, being a Democrat means having compassion for others. It means putting government to work to help people who need it. It means using all available tools to provide good health care and education, job opportunities, safe neighborhoods, a healthy environment, a promising future. It means standing up for people who have been kept down, whether they are Native Americans, African Americans, women, immigrants, or the homeless. It means making sure all people are treated with respect and dignity.”
George McGovern was a stand-in democratic nominee for president, after Bobby Kennedy’s murder.
Don’t feel sorry for us. Feel sorry for your own blindness, gullibility, and desperate need to believe in a man so vile that we have lowered the bar so far a cockroach could not creep under it. A man who told over 2,000 documented, proven lies in his first year. A man so despicable 30 Republican lawmakers have decided to quit rather than work with him.
I’m sure you didn’t read the facts expressed in the letter by Richard Kuznitsky. It explains why two-thirds of the population finds him unfit for office. Read page seven, where more lies are exposed. You can learn these things by googling “unemployment past eight years”, “last eight years stock market”, “Biggest tax cuts in history.” EVERY assertion you made about Trump is based on a lie. I won’t break them down. The World already did.
Trump lies. His behavior is contagious. Nunes runs interference for him with false information in a memo he wrote. Ryan swore never to defend Trump, but now defends him with every sunrise.
Mr. Shellabarger, dish it out. I won’t curl in a corner and cry. Call me snowflake. I’d rather a snowflake than an ice cube without empathy. Call me “little lib,” and I will answer. Call me whatever you choose. You’re dead wrong. One day, you will see that.