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Monday, March 19, 2018

We're on the air again-

Sunday, March 18, 2018

A Gardener's Diary: Thirteen Months

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The other day I was pouring the water out of a vase of camellias whose blossoms had gone off. I planning to toss them. In fact, I was on the way out the door and on the way to the compost bin before I stopped, turned, returned to the kitchen, and reached for a knife. Cutting away the bark to bare the cambium, I remember thinking, "Well, you're still alive, just."

I was surprised to discover February 6, 2017 was my last Diary entry. It's a bit of larky fluff. I was feeling my oats. Business was finally picking up; people were buying books; I had a bank account again. I had come to terms with the likelihood my mentor and almost-joint-venturer, another book dealer, was not going to recover from two strokes in the fall of 2016 (he died around Easter).

After I posted the 2/6 entry, I got an email that my mother died, in the third-hand, roundabout way my family shares news with me. I had not been aware she was ill. I had not been aware of much of anything for years. After a cold war series of meetings in the five years after I came out in 1995, her wish to see my relationship broken realized, she stopped talking to me at all.

The last time I had a call from her, she accused me of staging a bicycle accident that put me in hospital during my father's funeral, and kept me out of work for eight weeks, to avoid attending.

After that she communicated only, and rarely, by email, the last time to direct me to give my personal and financial information to a "financial planner" she'd met online who was redoing her estate plan. I pointed out she lived in one of the wealthiest towns in America, where you can't swing a cat without hitting an expert financial planner. I would not give the information to a man who, for all I knew, might be the same one who had her ready to board a flight to Belgium to claim a lottery prize.

After that- and a well-chosen insult in response- she just went silent.

For seventeen years. I was angry, I was sad. Finally, I was resigned. My mother was not one to be moved. If she moved, it would be her decision. So I just waited. And thirteen months ago I realized, she had made a decision to die unreconciled: something she had warned me about. If I did that, she assured me, I would be miserable for life. Apparently, she wasn't when she tried it on. At her memorial service I learned her last verbalized thoughts were that the six brothers who predeceased her were bidding her come and join them. None of them suggested I was a loose end worth tying up.

So I was not of one mind on getting the news, but I knew my duty. Summoned to the memorial service- my first family gathering invitation in over two decades- I nodded and smiled and thanked people for attending as most of them shunned me as best they could without being ostentatious.

I was posed for photos with family, and then no one sent me any copies.

I was a prop, and when the event was over I was dropped off at home and I still do not know what was done with her ashes, or the disposition of her estate. I have a pretty good idea, going back to the last century, I was not included, and long ago made my peace with that. Overall, though, the silence that has accompanied the year since has surprised me a little.

Somehow, I thought the old ledger would zero out, and my siblings and I would open a new one. I don't know what got into me.

I still consider, looking in the mirror in the morning- though not every day- "your own parents disowned you, after all those decades of 'we'll always love you, no matter what.'"

Nothing has changed. My mother turns up in dreams to chide me, and I hear from relatives when I post things they don't like.

A month after my mother died, I was walking home from the grocery when I tripped, fell, damaged my left knee and broke my right wrist. On adrenalin, I made it the 9/10ths of a mile left, went into shock, and woke several hours later unable to walk. My left leg had locked in place and my wrist hurt something awful, and I was alone.

As is their wont, my neighbors- all of whom are even older than I- speculated on not seeing me, but did not come to see if I was, in fact, ill.

Inside, I managed to get into a rolling office chair that was home when I wasn't in bed, and re-set and splinted my wrist. I managed to alert customers business would be slightly disrupted for a time; a friend read it and had a grocery deliver me things I could warm and eat one handed and a bit with the other. My fingers could move, just not up or down, back or forth, or clockwise kinda stuff.

Business dried up.

I got out of the house a month later, my knee healed. My wrist is about 95%.  My vegetable season was a farce: too little, too late.

About all I did in the garden was mow once a month: the front yard, to keep my neighbor Mildred happy across the street. The backyard, out of sight, every other month.

Then, poof! It was autumn, and I started closing up the yard for the year. My singular achievement of 2017 was power washing the driveway for the first time in thirty years. The drive is 180 feet long. It took three weeks, and three complete passes, to get it one consistent color (when I stopped for a couple of days of rain- leaving the last section in its acquired graphite and the rest in a lighter grey- Mildred came over to tell me I'd done a very good job, "until you stopped."

Come fall, I got 40 hostas from a neighbor and stuck them in the ground to deal with in 2018.


The holidays- as always, a miserable, solitary slog punctuated by worries about dwindling funds- came, then went. A consulting gig that paid out at Christmas, 2016 did not in 2017, despite vastly more work having been undertaken, with vastly improved results (it's a volunteer, grace-and-favor gig). 

2018 launched cold, gloomy, wet, and hungry. I dusted off the 2015 rationing plan. An acquaintance dangled the possibility of an investment in the business, then, apparently, slept on it and awoke refreshed and free of *that* idiot notion. People continue to look at, but not buy, my books.

Facebook introduced an algorithm shift that cut the reach of my listings 25 percent overnight.

February came along unseasonably warm and sunny. After frittering away the first week, I dragged my bony ass outside and considered what to do. I needed a project, something big enough to take a long time, and complicated enough to get my mind off my accumulating, and ruminatively time-consuming, worries.

I decided to build a moss garden in the front yard.

I started digging February 6, 2017. It just worked out that way.

Here's the St Patrick's Day Rare Book Cafe-

Thursday, March 15, 2018

If you missed today's Live BookWeek, no worries- we saved it for you.

Here's the link to today's BookWeek: Thursday in the sordid world of the rare and collectible: auctions- present and future- promise fortunes; author Sherman Alexie's #MeToo moment; the EU worries booksellers are terrorists' catspaws; and how fantasy author Terry Brooks' comic book collection got stolen. 

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Today at LGBookT

90 minutes of #MAGA: the best of times, the Trump of times.

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Join us!

Once, not so long ago, Republicans ran on tearing down walls.

Cutting to the heart of the thing.

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Join us!



PICKS Iuli Caesaris historiam texere difficillimum; Docet: «ULTIMUM erat dissimilis valde '

In die Tillerson accusavit Russia veneno indicem certior factus Putin tuom demutat Award amicitia ordo. 'Nostra amicos manere emit' inquit Moscow domus muneris.*

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The day after Tillerson accuses Russia of poisoning spy, Putin revokes Order of Friendship Award. "Our friends stay bought," declares Moscow Home Office.

Monday, March 12, 2018

A distillation of joy

I adore this ad:

And you thought mosquitos are annoying-

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White House Pushes To Make 

Drone Delivery A Reality Sooner

How many more generations will pass before it will have become nearly impossible to be alone for even an hour, to see anywhere nature as she is without man’s improvements upon it? How long will it be before- what is perhaps worse yet- there is no quietness anywhere, no escape from the rumble and the crash, the clank and the screech which seems to be the inevitable accompaniment of technology?

Perhaps when the time comes that there is no more silence and no more aloneness, there will also be no longer anyone who wants to be alone.

-Joseph Wood Krutch

Friday, March 9, 2018

Birthday: "Hemingway hated me. I sold 200 million books, and he didn't. Of course, most of mine sold for 25 cents."

Frank Morrison Spillane (1918-2006)
Author, actor

His own father, an Irish-born Brooklyn bartender, called Mickey Spillane’s books “crud." Spillane aimed a little higher, calling them “the chewing gum of American literature.”

His Washington Post obit summed up the Spillane Style:
In one typical passage from "The Big Kill," Hammer narrates: "I snapped the side of the rod across his jaw and laid the flesh open to the bone. I pounded his teeth back into his mouth with the end of the barrel . . . and I took my own damn time about kicking him in the face. He smashed into the door and lay there bubbling. So I kicked him again and he stopped bubbling." 
Mystery specialist Anthony Boucher, writing in the New York Times, said that novel "may rank as the best Spillane -- which is the faintest praise this department has ever bestowed."
For its part, when he died The Times commented,
Mr. Spillane took issue with those who complained that his books had too much sex. How could there be sex, he asked, when so many women were shot? He noted the conspicuous role women played among his victims: Mary (abandoned), Anne L. (drowned in a bathtub), Lola (fatally stabbed), Ethel (whipped before she was shot), Marsha (shot) and Ellen (like Mary, given the heave-ho). 
And then there was Velda, Mike Hammer’s blond, beautiful and patient companion in several novels. Hammer made no advances toward her and all she got for her trouble was being shot, assaulted, strung up naked and whipped. 
In “I, the Jury,” Hammer became so angry at a female psychiatrist that he shot her in her “stark naked” stomach. (“Stark naked” was a phrase that Mr. Spillane rather liked.) As she died, she asked, “Mike, how could you?” To which Hammer replied, “It was easy.”
After working as a lifeguard, a Ringling Brothers trampoline artist, and a dollar necktie salesman at Gimbel’s in New York, Spillane became a writer through a chance meeting with a comic book company employee. Where it took most writers a week to turn out a “book,” Spillane could do it in a day, and he made a decent living cranking out adventures for Batman, Superman, Captain America and Captain Marvel.

Drafted in 1941, he became an Army Air Force training pilot, serving stateside through the war and much to his chagrin. He got married after the war, and when the couple decided it would be nice to have a place in the country, he churned out I, The Jury, a comic book.

For once, he didn’t find a buyer. So he rewrote it as a book, and sold it. Between the paperback and hardback editions, I, The Jury sold 6.5 million copies in 1947-48. He built a cinder block house in Newburgh, New York, and there cranked out five more novels featuring Mike Hammer, an alcoholic private detective with a taste for vigilantism and an antipathy to money launderers and Communists.

The body count in Spillane’s first six books was a staggering 58, and the format- use-’em-and-lose’em dames, and quick justice when the law was too slow- made him a rich man. Then, in 1951, he became a Jehovah’s Witness with both feet and didn’t publish another book until 1962. He took his faith seriously, and his barrel-chested physique and ever-present grimace doubtless got him fewer rejections than most doing their door to door work.

Ayn Rand admired both Spillane's style and Hammer's amorality, and the two conducted a flirtatious correspondence for decades.

Spillane was so famous, so fast, that he played himself in a 1954 John Wayne film, Ring of Fear. When the script proved problematic to the Duke, Spillane rewrote it for free. For his pains, Wayne had a Jaguar roadster delivered to him in a large red bow.

The first of three Mike Hammer TV series came in the late Fifties; in the 1963 film of his book, The Girl Hunters, Spillane played Mike Hammer, in a role no one could tell him wasn’t what the writer intended.

On a publisher’s dare, he wrote a kids book and won a book award for it. In the ‘70s and ‘80s, he was a regular in over one hundred Bud Lite beer ads. Stacy Keach made a good living from Mike Hammer in two more series programs before century’s end. Spillane retired to Murrell’s Inlet, South Carolina, which he’d visited in the war, and was such a booster he came to regret the rapid growth of the once-rural coastline.

He was nothing if not practical about his work, telling interviewers,
I'm a commercial writer, not an author. Margaret Mitchell was an author. She wrote one book. 
Nobody reads a mystery to get to the middle. They read it to get to the end. If it's a letdown, they won't buy anymore. The first page sells that book. The last page sells your next book. 
I have no fans. You know what I got? Customers. And customers are your friends.
He came across like the Donald Trump of crime fiction, declaring,
I knew a couple of things... during the war years they came out with reprints of all the Dumas novels, Moby Dick, for the servicemen, and I saw this and believe me I'm a very sharp merchandiser, and I say this is the new marketplace for writing: original paperback books. 
I was the first one probably in writing to use a nickname, Mickey, and it stuck. 
I'm 82 years old, wherever I go everybody knows me, but here's why... I'm a merchandiser, I'm not just a writer, I stay in every avenue you can think of. 
I don't care what the editor likes or dislikes, I care what the people like. 
I was one of the first guys writing comic books, I wrote Captain America, with guys like Stan Lee, who became famous later on with Marvel Comics. Stan could write on three typewriters at once! I wrote the Human Torch, Submariner. I worked my way down. I started off at the high level, in the slick magazines, but they didn't use my name, they used house names. Anyway, then I went downhill to the pulps, then downhill further to the comics. I went downhill class-wise, but I went uphill, money-wise! I was making more money in the comics. I wrote the original Mike Hammer as a comic, Mike Danger.
Death finally took down Hammer’s creator at the age of 88. Like a good pulp writer, he left a batch of manuscripts behind. One is scheduled to be published this year.

#LiteraryBirthdays #HenryBemisBooks #Charlotte #MickeySpillane #MikeHammer

A few moments with Nathan Lane. Laughs are in short supply these days.

After all, he has the best words, and the biggest button.

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Popcorn, anyone? North Carolina Republicans claim to support a gay legislative candidate

Here's a fascinating news item: the executive director of the North Carolina told me today that Gays for Trump Head Fanboy Peter Boykin is being fully embraced as the GOP candidate for NC House District 58.

Covering a story on Boykin's announcement in The Washington Blade, I posted this tease:

Woodhouse wasted no time in replying:

This will be so much fun to watch. The North Carolina Republican party is about as homophobic as Republicans get. Their 2016 candidate for attorney general, Buck Newton, campaigned to "keep North Carolina straight!"

The man Boykin wants to swear fealty to, North Carolina House Speaker Tim Moore, has been harassing LGBT Tar Heels for a quarter of a century.

In the House GOP caucus, 40 members voted to retain a ban on any LGBT anti-discrimination laws or ordinances in its fake repeal of HB2; another 33 voted to keep HB2 in place as it was originally passed.

The party's de facto elected leader, Lt. Gov. Dan Forest, would be mute if he didn't have the gays to spend eight years bashing until he runs for governor in 2020.

Charlotte-area residents, of course, got treated to a sense of GOP support in 2017, when the Mecklenburg County party claimed to back an even tinier gay Trump club after a White House staffer called its then cochair to express interest in Deplorable Pride's utterly incompetent campaign to force a Trump float into the Charlotte Pride Parade. 

Both the county party and The White House were never heard from again, and Deplorable Pride, having milked saps for $7700 on money that vanished, unaccounted- is now a claque of Facebook trolls.

Boykin's candidacy offers a rare- if not unique- opportunity to test the notion of gay Trumpism in an election and, if he wins, in the General Assembly.

Greensboro voters: there are two good reasons to elect a gay Trump fanboy. One: how much worse can he make things in Raleigh? Two: It will show us all just how inclusive and welcoming his party is.

The Washington Blade:

Peter Boykin, the founder and president of the group Gays for Trump, announced last month that he is running as a Republican for a seat in the North Carolina House of Representatives in a district representing Greensboro.

[Waldonote: No other Republican filed, which makes Boykin the party's general election nominee for District 58.]

Boykin is challenging Amos Quick, a Democratic incumbent who serves as pastor of a black church in a Democratic-leaning district. Despite what on the surface appears to be an uphill effort to win election to the seat, Boykin said his platform and positions on local and national issues will draw the attention of voters.

Peter Boykin, gay news, Washington Blade

Among other things, he said his platform focuses on “school, church, and public safety for everyone, proper gun training and safety, and employment and job security.”

“I want to ensure people of all walks of life are treated with dignity and respect so long as they also return the favor,” he said in a statement. “Equality is treating everyone with equal respect regardless of race, sex, sexual orientation, religion, political party, or opinions.”

Boykin was in D.C. on Sunday for a rally at the Lincoln Memorial in support of President Donald Trump for which he served as lead organizer. The event drew about 100 people.

His campaign announcement says Boykin is technical producer and co-owner of MAGA One Radio, a North Carolina-based online radio network that provides news and commentary from a conservative perspective.

His campaign announcement mentions the gun issue prominently.

“Gun free does not mean removal of guns, but allows for an authorized protection plan that will permit properly trained individuals to protect churches and schools in cases of emergencies with firearms,” the statement says.

“My goal as a representative for Greensboro, N.C. is to ensure our children and our families feel secure and safe when attending school, church, or public events knowing trained individuals are present to safeguard their lives and they will all make it home each and every day,” his statement says.

Thou shalt not, except-

Photo: Kentucky Legislature, Republican caucus meeting, March 9, 2018. h/t Kentucky Trial Court Review.


[Texas Baptist preacher Robert] Jeffress, a Fox News contributor and die-hard Trump supporter, defended evangelicals supportive of the president against charges of hypocrisy in light of recent news about the porn star tryst.

“Let’s be clear, evangelicals still believe in the commandment: thou shalt not have sex with a porn star,” Jeffress said.

“However, whether this president violated that commandment or not is totally irrelevant to our support of him,” he continued. “Evangelicals knew they weren’t voting for an altar boy when they voted for Donald Trump. We supported him because of his policies and his strong leadership.”

Bosses, always with the "Faster! Faster!"

BBC News: 

Flippy the burger-flipping robot that started work this week in a California restaurant has been forced to take a break because it was too slow.

The robot was installed at a Cali Burger outlet in Pasadena and replaced human cooks.

But after just one day at work the robot has been taken offline, so it can be upgraded to cook more quickly.

Its human helpers are also getting extra training to help it keep up with demand at the restaurant.

USA Today reported that the robot was still in place behind the grill at the burger joint but was switched off. A sign said the robot would be "cooking soon" but gave no date for when it would once again be flipping hamburger patties.

The robot is believed to have been given time off because news about it spread widely, and led to more interest and orders than the restaurant could handle.

In a statement, Miso Robotics, which made Flippy, said it was testing the code that controls the robot to ensure that it can cook quickly enough to fulfill orders at peak times. Prior to starting work, Flippy was said to be capable of cooking up to 2,000 burgers a day.

Cali Burger said it was also working with staff to show them the best way to prepare and place the raw patties and other ingredients in its burgers to ensure Flippy works as fast as possible.

Anthony Lomelino, head of technology at Cali Burger, told USA Today that kitchen staff needed to learn to "choreograph" their movements around the motions of the mobile, spatula-fitted arm which Flippy uses to cook.

Cali said that it started to use the robot to get around the problems it has recruiting staff. The high turnover rate among staff in fast-food restaurants meant it often spent time and money training people to prepare food only to have them leave after a few months.

Eventually, said the chain, burger-flipping robots will be installed in up to 50 of its restaurants.

The *resident's first Labor Secretary nominee, Andy ("Time's Up") Puzder, is another keen robot fan:
For businesses that view their employees as simply obstacles to their profits rather than living, breathing people, clearly the benefits of non-human workers are many: "They're always polite, they always upsell, they never take a vacation, they never show up late, there's never a slip-and-fall, or an age, sex, or race discrimination case," Puzder tells Business Insider.
It has always been thus:

Thursday, March 8, 2018

The game is afoot.

William Safire, "On Language," The New York Times,  October 15, 1989:

THE >SUMMIT USED to be 'way up there, at the top, the peak, the zenith. From the Latin >summus, ''highest,'' the word offered a view that was breathtaking.

Winston Churchill was displeased in 1950 at what his friend Bernard Baruch called >the Cold War (coinage claimed by Walter Lippmann but actually made by the Baruch speechwriter Herbert Bayard Swope). The British statesman recalled the cordial wartime meetings he had with Roosevelt and Stalin, and called for a ''parley at the summit.'' Such a top-level meeting of a few leaders, he said, would better bridge the international gap than a gathering of ''hordes of experts and officials drawn up in a vast cumbrous array.''

So started >summit in diplolingo, followed in the late 1950's by >summitry (on the analogy of >telemetry) and >summiteer (on the analogy of >pamphleteer and >profiteer). For more than a generation, this coinage and its derivatives held the definition to a meeting at the very top; with currency, however, the Churchillian coin has been debased.

President Bush has just met with the nation's governors for what was billed as an >education summit; schoolchildren from Gorky held what Tass designated a >youth summit; last year, President Reagan and Congressional leaders held hands at what was labeled an >economic summit to reduce the deficit; then delegations from New York and New Jersey met at the World Trade Center in Manhattan for what they insisted was a >regional economic summit.

If a bunch of guys from neighboring states can call their subway series a >summit, anything goes: conservationists in conclave call their motel brunch an >environmental summit, and in the competition between Sony and Philips, Newsday reported: ''Both the hardware and software people have discussed a possible 'summit' meeting later this winter to talk about alternatives to the Copycode technology.''

We are reaching the point where you can hold a summit of nobodies in the basement. 

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News ripped from the headlines, then carefully folded.

Here's the link to today's program.

Things get better.

I envy young Mr Rippon. What a joy to just be able to be oneself:

Monday, March 5, 2018

Somewhere, Hawley and Smoot are laughing

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Piety in the NCGOP

The News & Observer, March 5, 2018:

Trump pick on bench is ‘tantamount to Hitler wreaking havoc’ among Jews, NAACP leader says

The head of the state NAACP and others in the organization traveled to Washington recently to try once again to persuade a few Republican senators to block the appointment of Thomas Farr to the federal bench.

The Rev. T. Anthony Spearman, head of the state NAACP, made a comparison to Adolf Hitler at a news conference before visiting senators on Capitol Hill. His comments drew a rebuke Monday evening from state Republicans.

Spearman and others who spoke noted that the Eastern District of North Carolina, a 44-county region from Raleigh to the coast, has a black population of more than 25 percent but the U.S. Senate has never confirmed the appointment of a black judge to that bench...

...“Tom Farr in the Eastern District with the legal authority to decide the fate of African-Americans — hear me somebody — is tantamount to Adolf Hitler wreaking havoc among our Jewish sisters and brothers, and Saul, who later became the apostle Paul, breathing out cruelty to Christians,” Spearman added.

...The state Republican Party issued a news release calling Spearman’s comments “racist and anti-Semitic hate speech.”

...Dallas Woodhouse, executive director of the NC GOP, said in a statement," There is simply no place for a state leader to refer to those who have different political philosophies as Adolf Hitler.”

Actually, it's an article of faith among Republicans in pretty much every state. Woodhouse should know. Here's what he said about HB2:

The Washington Post, April 2016: 
Dallas Woodhouse, executive director of the North Carolina Republican Party, argued that the bathroom bill — if properly framed — will help McCrory with suburban women, not just rural voters.

Ohio State University, Origins, August 2011:

But Bryan Fischer of the American Family Association says that gay people helped bring Nazism to Germany.

The first statement is an opinion, about which reasonable people can and do disagree. But the second one is a flat-out lie, which makes reasoned dialogue and disagreement impossible.

And here's why it matters: Several of the GOP candidates have allied themselves with the AFA. Michelle Bachmann, Newt Gingrich, and Herman Cain have all appeared on Fischer's radio show. And the newest kid on the block in the Republican race, Texas Gov. Rick Perry, was the featured speaker at an AFA-sponsored prayer rally on Aug. 6 at Houston's Reliant Stadium.

But none of these GOP hopefuls have challenged Fischer, who insists that Adolf Hitler and many of his storm troopers were gay. "So it was homosexual thugs that helped Hitler to form the Nazi Party," Fischer told a radio audience in June, adding that the Party began "in a gay bar in Munich."

Mediaite, July 2012:

[Former RedState editor and CNN commentator Erik Erickson] "has even compared proponents of gay rights to Nazis. He didn’t do it in some subtle, open-to-interpretation way, either. His headline was “Gay Rights Proponents Act Like the Third Reich,” and in case you thought he was just exaggerating, the first sentence of his piece was “Yes, I know about Goodwin’s law, but comparing gay rights activists to the Nazis is fitting.”

San Antonio Express-News, March 2016:

Kyle Biedermann has a simple explanation for why he once posed for a photograph in a Hitler costume with a swastika on his arm and a pink sash around his neck while smiling and making a Nazi “sieg heil” salute.

It was for charity.

A self-declared “conservative, Christian Republican,” Biedermann is running to unseat state Rep. Doug Miller, R-New Braunfels, in Texas House District 73, which covers Comal, Gillespie and Kendall counties just north of San Antonio. After winning about 36 percent of the vote in the March primary, Biedermann is facing Miller in a May 24 runoff.

Biedermann dressed up like “gay Hitler,” he said, for a Saturday Night Live-themed costume party that benefited a Fredericksburg food pantry about eight years ago. “Gay Hitler” was a character portrayed on the television comedy show in 2001 by actor Chris Kattan.

“What would be offensive about that photograph?” Biedermann asked on Wednesday. “This whole thing is about political correctness. It’s not a problem for me whatsoever.”

Nonetheless, Biedermann removed the photograph from his Facebook page before running for office.

When asked why he would remove a photograph that’s not offensive, he said, “Well, because the incumbents — I mean my opponent, they would, you know, you know how it is, people are going to take it out of context.”, January 2017:

North Dakota Republican politician Janne Myrdal insists she did not intend to compare gay people to Nazis.

Using her personal Facebook page last week, Myrdal shared an article entitled: ‘The Forgotten Gays Part II: Is the LGBT On Crack?’—which featured a rainbow flag with a Swastika overlay.

The article—posted on the website Conservatives 4 Palin— attacked the LGBT+ community for influencing singer Jennifer Holliday’s decision to not perform at the Trump inauguration.

The piece went on to say that the LGBT+ movement is “laser focused on being a for-profit professional agitation group” and that “it’s time for the radical and extreme voices of the LGBT to be replaced by the normal level headed forgotten gays".

Pink News, August 2017:

A Republican with ties to Senator Ted Cruz has claimed that the evil spirit behind the Nazis is now pushing the “homosexual lifestyle”.

The extraordinary claim comes from David Barton, who is the former vice chair of the Republican Party of Texas and the  former director of the ‘Keep the Promise PAC’, which supported Senator Cruz’s 2016 presidential campaign. 

Barton made the claim on his WallBuilders Live radio show, noticed by Right Wing Watch.

Forward, September 2017:

Roy Moore has won a primary election to run as the Republican candidate for U.S. Senate from Alabama. Two years ago, he compared gay marriage to the Holocaust to explain why he refused to accept a Supreme Court decision on the issue.

If you’d even consider asking “What’s the difference?” between Nazi Germany’s systematic murder of six million Jews and legal gay marriage, consider running for a seat on Alabama’s State Supreme Court. Alabama Chief Justice Roy Moore made just that comparison on June 29.

“Could I do this if I were in Nuremberg… say that I was following the orders of the highest authority to kill Jews?… Could I say I was ordered to do so?” The shocked interviewer reminded Moore that the Nuremberg trials had been about murder, not gay marriage. “Is there a difference?” he asked.

Moore’s comments were echoed by his personal attorney, Win Johnson, whom Moore appointed director of the legal staff of the state’s Administrative Office of Courts. Johnson was incensed by Governor Robert Bentley’s statement that he personally disagreed with the ruling, but would “uphold the law of the nation and this is now law.” He responded to the Governor in a letter that opened with “Jesus Christ is Lord of All.”

And then it got really weird.

Brilliant words from 75 years ago